


Soldier's Mask

by aphreal



Series: Sparring Partners [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 03:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphreal/pseuds/aphreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair was raised at Highever and befriended by young Alexia Cousland. As they get older, that friendship becomes complicated, because a guardsman can't possibly have a future with the teyrn's daughter. </p><p>Written for the Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang 2013.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Misure stretta

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang, to accompany art by the lovely and talented chenria. Chen was kind enough to let me fold this into one of my existing AUs. Her art can be found here: http://chenria.tumblr.com/post/57320275700/soldiers-mask-masterpost
> 
> Huge thanks as always to SignCherie for her beta services, especially given the scale and pace of this piece. 
> 
>  
> 
> misure stretta – in fencing, the distance at which a strike can be made by simply leaning in

Alexia Cousland was running out of patience. She had been waiting in the stables for nearly an hour, and Alistair still hadn’t shown up for their weekly sparring session. This was becoming a frustratingly frequent occurrence. 

She and Alistair had been meeting in the Highever stables for sword practice nearly every week for the past four years. But since he’d finally made it through the last hurdles of guard training and been added to the roster for regular shifts, he hadn’t been showing up as faithfully for their sparring sessions. Alexia had tried adjusting the meeting times to fit with his guard schedule, but it hadn’t made much difference. 

With a sigh, she gave up on pacing and sat down on a large wooden tack box, propping her dull-edged practice greatsword next to her. She leaned back against the wall, tipping her head up in a fruitless search for fresh air in the closed, musty space. She’d already run through her practice forms while waiting, leaving her sweaty skin feeling gritty with the layer of clinging straw dust she’d stirred up. It had been a decent workout, but there was only so much she could do to hone her swordsmanship without facing off against a real opponent. At this point, there wasn’t much she could do other than wait for Alistair to finally show up, so she waited, idly swinging her legs, heels thumping against the empty tack box. 

Despite the dust and the musty, stale air, the stables were a perfect meeting place for these clandestine sparring sessions. The central space was open enough to allow freedom to move, the packed dirt floor provided an even surface underfoot, and it was almost entirely deserted. A few of the guards or servants used the stables for clandestine meetings of another sort, but otherwise no one came out here. 

Highever hadn’t kept horses since the end of the occupation, years before Alexia was born; the teyrn deemed their upkeep to be an unnecessarily high expense during peacetime. The lack of horses could be inconvenient when traveling outside of the teyrnir, but that was rarely an issue since most of the Cousland’s vassals and allies were content to visit Highever for both conferences with Bryce and Eleanor’s famous salons. 

Alexia had begun idly contemplating who her mother might host next – she had a sneaking suspicion that arlessas and banns with sons or brothers eligible for marriage factored into her mother’s invitations more frequently of late – when her attention was drawn to the door creaking open. She looked over to see Alistair, dressed in his practice armor and wearing an expression that was equal parts hopeful and guilty. 

It was about time he got here. Alexia hopped down off the tack box, smoothing her sparring leathers and picking up her practice blade. The movement drew Alistair’s attention, and the broad smile that spread across his face when he saw her was almost enough to sweep away the irritation that had built up during her long wait. 

Alistair rushed across the stable, stirring up clouds of dust in his wake. “Sorry, Lexia. I know I made you wait and I said I’d stop doing that. But there was this thing with the…” 

“Less apologizing, more fighting.” She dropped into a combat stance, barely giving him time to bring his sword up to guard position before lunging into her first attack. 

He parried her first blow, but it was a close thing. One of these days she’d manage to get the drop on him. They were a lot less evenly matched now that Alistair had done so much work to enter the guard ranks, but Alexia was determined to pick up as much of that training second-hand as she could. 

Alistair grinned as she continued to press her attack hard, rarely giving him enough time to slip a counter-attack in between parrying her strikes. Then he winced as a particularly strong blow jarred his arm when he blocked. “Ow. I said I was sorry.” 

“I’m not angry; I’m making up for lost time.” Alexia smirked. “If you don’t want such an intense workout, maybe you should show up on time next week.” She didn’t give him time to reply, swinging the flat of her blade towards his side, hoping to take advantage of his lack of a shield. 

He managed to dodge out of the way enough to blunt the force of her attack, taking a lighter impact that threw his balance off briefly instead of staggering him or knocking him off his feet. She tried to take advantage of his imbalance, launching a rapid series of fast cuts. But within moments, he had recovered and his blade intercepted each of her strikes with a dull clang. 

Frustrated and winded, Alexia raised her hand to call a halt. Alistair nodded agreement and stepped back, lowering his sword. Once she had caught her breath, Alexia glared at him. “Teach me how you’re doing that.” 

“Doing what?” He gasped the words out while panting, and Alexia took some satisfaction in having at least worn him down that much, even if she hadn’t landed many hits. 

“You don’t have your shield, and I still can’t hit you.” She frowned. “If it’s a defensive technique that works without a shield, I want to learn it.” 

“Oh, that…” He glanced down at the floor before meeting her eyes. “It’s because you’re not wearing a mask.” 

Alexia frowned. They had given up wearing protective masks when training a couple years ago, about the time Alistair said he’d quit using one during his guard training. He’d said the guard trainees discontinued them once they had enough control not to hurt each other inadvertently because it was easier to communicate instructions without the protective gear blocking mouth and ears. Now she was wondering if he’d made that up. 

“You said I shouldn’t. Because it was easier to learn without it.” Alexia fixed him with a suspicious glare. 

“And it is!” He sounded defensive, glancing away again. “But there’s another reason, too.” 

Greatsword still in hand, Alexia crossed her arms and stared at him expectantly. 

“The way it was explained to us…” Alistair’s voice changed, and she suspected he was mimicking the knight who trained the guard recruits. “An attack doesn’t begin here.” He raised his sword to point at her shoulder. “Or even here.” The blade dipped to indicate her feet. “It starts here.” His free hand gestured at his face. 

There was a pause before he continued. “Except he actually put his sword right in my face. But I didn’t really think that was a good idea with you.” 

“Because you didn’t want to scare me?” Alexia felt her lip curl in distaste at even Ali deciding she needed to be coddled, as if she weren’t every bit as tough a fighter as he was. 

He looked startled at the mere suggestion. “No, because I didn’t want you to take it personally and decide to break my arm.” 

Alexia couldn’t stop herself from laughing at his unexpected candor. “Honestly, Ali, I have never broken a single one of your bones.” She grinned at him, deliberately showing teeth. “Although it hasn’t been for lack of trying.” 

“And you’re supposed to be a noblewoman?” He shook his head in mock reproach. 

Alexia rolled her eyes and let it go. “So what point was your instructor trying to make with that? Other than the relative merits of shoving a sword in someone’s face and proving that I’m scarier than the guard trainees?” 

He grinned for a moment before resuming his serious teaching mode. “Most people you’re fighting will give you a tiny warning before they attack. You can watch for their arm starting to move or their weight shifting, but the first clue is usually in the face. If you watch closely, you can guess what they’re going to do before they do it. Unless they’ve learned to suppress their tells.” He shrugged. “So that’s why we started fighting without training masks: to read our opponents’ faces and learn to control our own. He called it developing a soldier’s mask.” 

Alexia frowned as she considered the idea. She’d never thought about it that way, but it made sense. “So you’re able to block my attacks because you can see them coming on my face.” 

Alistair nodded. “But you’re pretty good, Lexia. Especially for someone who hasn’t been trying to hide anything. You’re a lot harder to read than some of the trainees who have been working on a soldier’s mask for years.” 

She snorted at the false flattery. He didn’t need to salve her ego. She was here to learn how to fight, not to be pampered. “Which is why you’ve been able to deflect or dodge most of my attacks? What am I doing that gives it away?” 

“There’s a glint in your eyes right before you make a move, but it really is subtle. I don’t think most people would catch it, especially not if they’re attention is fixed on a giant sword coming at their face, but I’ve got the advantage of having spent a lot of time studying your eyes. Um, because of all of the sparring practice.” 

Alexia hefted her sword back up, contemplating how to make use of this information. She ignored the blush on Alistair’s cheeks. Let him be embarrassed about keeping this from her; he ought to feel guilty about having contrived an unfair advantage in their matches. How was she supposed to learn from him if he held back? “Get your shield and let’s go. Clearly I’ve got some work to do.” 

As Alistair retrieved the wooden practice shield he’d stashed in the stables for their sparring sessions, Alexia contemplated how she could suppress whatever unconscious signals she was giving off. How was she supposed to avoid having a glint in her eye? What did he even mean by that? 

She was still trying to figure it out as the next bout started, and the preoccupation definitely didn’t help. She spent so much time focusing on controlling her face into some invisible mask that she missed openings to strike and failed to block attacks she should have avoided easily. 

After landing a particularly solid blow on her shoulder, Alistair winced almost as much as she did. That was the last straw. He was getting at least as much of an advantage from telling her about her weakness as he had from exploiting it. This clearly wasn’t working. 

Maybe it was time to approach the concept from the other direction. Instead of worrying about what might be showing on her face, she started trying to figure out Ali’s. 

That worked considerably better. Alistair had never been especially proficient at controlling his expressions, and it wasn’t long at all before Alexia learned how to read his cues in this new context. She identified the slight tightening of his lips that heralded an attack and the small crease in his brow when he was planning to riposte. The bout became much more evenly matched, with each of them anticipating the other’s attacks. Alexia grew more confident as the match progressed and she was able to block nearly every sword thrust by virtue of knowing it was coming. 

Which meant she was caught completely off guard when Alistair’s shield crashed into her. 

He had managed to deflect her sword with his own, and she must have relaxed the tiniest bit when she sensed he wasn’t setting himself up for a riposte. Instead, he had taken advantage of her sword being held out of position, and his shield had slammed into her chest with enough force to take away her breath for a moment. 

Before she fully recovered from the shock of the impact, she had been pushed back a few staggering steps, resulting in her stumbling over some unseen obstacle underfoot. Her greatsword slipped from her hand as she lost her balance, Alistair’s weight on the shield driving her down to the floor. 

She landed hard, gasping as the air was forced from her lungs. By the time she regained her breath, Ali had her completely pinned. Since he’d hit his growth spurt a couple of years ago, he outweighed her by enough that she couldn’t break loose by sheer force, and they both knew it. Her momentary stunning had given him time to position his weight well enough that she wasn’t going to be able to slip or twist free either. He had her pretty thoroughly trapped, but he hadn’t asked for her surrender yet, and she certainly wasn’t going to volunteer it. 

Alistair leaned down closer to her, looking concerned. Her sudden stillness must have worried him. “Lexia, are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” The words were harder to croak out than she expected, which made them sound unconvincing even to her own ears. Ali clearly wasn’t reassured, his eyes widening. His pulse in the wrist he’d used to pin her arms jumped as he started to panic; she needed to calm him down. Licking her lips and taking a deep, shuddery breath, she tried again, hoping humor would reassure him that she wasn’t badly hurt. “I just need to remember how to breathe.” 

Ali was so close that his soft, relieved chuckle tickled against her cheek. “That problem seems to be catching.” 

Alexia had no idea what he meant, but she smiled anyway, trying to chase away the lingering concern in his eyes. There was a strange tension between them, something she’d never felt with Ali before, and she wanted to calm him down and convince him everything was fine. She tried to make a joke of the situation, teasing him about acting like a human battering ram, but she never got the chance to say anything. 

Because that was when Ali kissed her. 

The kiss stunned her nearly as effectively as the shield bash had. No one had ever kissed her before, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. If it was anyone else, she probably would have pushed them away, but she trusted Ali. He was her closest friend, and she was surprised to discover that, once she got past the initial moment of shock, she kind of liked being kissed by him. 

She had never imagined kissing Ali, but she thought this was exactly what she would have expected it to feel like. Sweet, tender, hesitant but also strangely comfortable. He pulled back before she had a chance to figure out exactly how she felt, but the nervous look on his face said he was waiting for her reaction. 

Alexia thought as quickly as she could, trying to guess what response he was expecting. Even though she’d never kissed anyone, she was familiar with kissing-games, at least second-hand, from listening to Delilah, Oriana, and other young noblewomen gossip while the older ladies in their families attended one of Eleanor’s famous afternoon teas. Although when it was Oriana telling the stories, Alexia did her best not to pay attention; Fergus was her brother, after all. 

The main thing she had learned from listening was that kissing usually wasn’t something to take seriously, especially not for nobles. A young woman from a titled family would marry based on politics and alliances, but that didn’t have to prevent her from having some fun beforehand, so long as she was careful and discreet. It was always understood that the family’s needs came first in the long term, and it was a rare thing for natural flirtation to turn into something serious, like it had for Fergus and Oriana. The first rule of kissing-games among noble girls was that they were just that: games. Harmless fun to experiment before getting married to a nobleman selected by the family. 

Ali was still staring at her expectantly, his face only inches away, so close it was a little blurry as her eyes refused to focus. But she didn’t have to see the details to sense his growing apprehension as she delayed. He was getting nervous again, so it was time to reassure him that she wasn’t freaking out or trying to make a big deal of this. 

“So you decided our sparring matches needed to have stakes for winning?” She smirked up at him in mock irritation. “You could have told me first.” 

Alistair grinned back, looking relieved, although his voice was a little shaky. “A kiss from a beautiful lady after winning a match _is_ traditional.” 

Alexia ignored the attempt at flattery and shoved at his chest. It was time to get things back on a footing she understood. “You got your reward for winning. Now get off me and let me find my sword for the next round.” 

With a slightly guilty flush on his cheeks, Alistair scrambled to his feet and offered a hand to help her up. Alexia tried to convince herself as she took it that this didn’t feel any different from the hundreds of other times she had touched Ali over the years. There was no reason it should. But she found herself strangely aware of the warmth of his skin, the rough calluses worn by his sword hilt, the way his fingers wrapped around hers. 

Quickly, she pulled her hand away, ignoring his look of hurt confusion, and scanned the packed dirt floor for the sword she had dropped when he knocked her down, minutes ago when everything had made a lot more sense. She located it quickly – losing a greatsword would take work – and once she had a familiar weapon back in hand, Alexia started to settle back into normal patterns and get past the awkward hyperawareness. She knew how to relate to Ali with a sword in hand. 

Alexia approached this bout similarly to the previous one, letting her attacks fall into habitual patterns while she focused on reading Ali’s tells and anticipating his moves. She succeeded in getting more attacks through and blocking most of his, but it was hard to know if she should attribute the increased success to improvement on her part or Ali slipping up. Despite having initiated it, he seemed more thrown by what had happened than she was. 

Well, it was his own fault, and she refused to go easy on him for it. They were here to spar, and she intended to do just that. 

Alexia continued to press every advantage that she got, capitalizing on Alistair’s moments of weakness and preoccupation. Eventually, a solid hit to his lower ribs snapped him out of it, and he returned to his usual level of challenge. Alexia didn’t even try to suppress her fierce grin as she was pushed to keep up, trading blows and blocks until they were both getting winded and wincing with what would shape up into decent collections of bruises. 

Finally, Alexia saw an opportunity to end the match in her favor. She delivered a basic overhand cut, which Alistair parried easily, as she expected he would. Putting more pressure into the stroke after it was blocked, she twisted his sword around to an impossible angle, forcing it out of his hand. Alistair scrambled backwards, trying to put his shield between them, but she matched him step for step, herding him into a support post. 

When Alistair’s back hit the post, his eyes widened in alarm with the realization he was trapped. Alexia calmly placed the tip of her sword in the hollow between his collarbones, something she would never have dared if the practice blade had a real point on it. Staring him down, she did her best to appear intimidating and stern. “Drop your shield.” 

He swallowed, started to nod, and then thought better of it. As he pulled his arm free from the grips on his shield, it fell to the floor with a hollow thud of wood on dirt. 

Alexia probably should have demanded his surrender then, but she was savoring her victory, drawing out the moment. It was a rare thing for her to have Ali so effectively trapped and helpless. Usually, when she won a bout, it was through some dramatic attack that would have unquestioningly left her opponent dead or incapacitated in a real duel. Greatswords were not meant for subtlety. 

As she enjoyed her moment of triumph, Alexia continued to study Ali, reading him like she’d done during the match. Chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath, his pulse was visible in his throat just above the tip of her sword. But his eyes were calm, wide and fixed intently on her. 

Alexia’s gaze kept being drawn back to his lips, slightly parted as he panted, recovering from the exertion of their sparring. There was no reason for her to be this focused, but she couldn’t seem to keep herself from staring, trying to remember exactly what Ali’s lips had felt like. Maybe it was because the kiss had ended too quickly, before she’d gotten over her shock enough to process the sensation. Maybe all she needed to get past this fixation was to kiss him again, under her initiative so she was expecting it instead of caught by surprise. Then she would understand this reaction and be able to move on. 

Keeping her eyes locked on his, she shifted the tip of her sword from his throat to rest on his shoulder. The blade slid along beside his neck as she stepped forward, the blunted edge brushing his skin when her arm waivered with the strain of supporting the heavy sword one-handed. Ali’s eyes widened further as she closed the distance between them, but he held perfectly still, paralyzed as if she were threatening him with a real sword. 

Alexia set her free hand on his chest for balance, feeling his heartbeat thudding beneath her palm. She raised up on her toes – when had Ali gotten so much taller than her? – and brought her lips to meet his. 

Ali froze in shock for a second, and she wondered if she’d made a mistake. She started to pull away, but his arm came up behind her, warm hand splayed on the small of her back, and the tensed muscles beneath her hand relaxed. Reassured, Alexia leaned in to him and focused on the experience of kissing Ali. 

His lips were warm and surprisingly soft. He smelled like leather and sweat, but not unpleasantly so. Her body rested against his comfortably, and she pressed her mouth to his more tightly, wanting to feel more of this. She suspected she wasn’t being as gentle as he had been, but he didn’t seem to mind. She couldn’t really describe it, but there was something about kissing him that simply felt right. 

When her calves eventually protested the way she was stretched up on her toes, Alexia reluctantly lowered herself back to her heels, breaking away from the kiss. She realized that her sword had slid from his shoulder and dropped to the floor without her even noticing, despite the grip still being in her hand. 

Ali stared at her with a dazed expression that she couldn’t quite read. She was seriously considering kissing him again when he finally found his voice. “I didn’t win.” 

Alexia blinked, forehead tightening with confusion. 

“The stakes. Kissing a beautiful girl for winning.” He held up his empty hands. “Being disarmed rarely counts in a person’s favor, so I think it’s safe to say I didn’t win.” His chuckle seemed a bit unsure. 

“No, I won,” Alexia agreed. “So I kissed you.” She tried to keep her voice steady, like this was the most logical conclusion in the world, the kiss part of a game rather than something she very much wanted to have happen again. 

A grin slowly spread across Ali’s face. “Not that I’m complaining, but that might not be the best way to motivate me to fight well.” 

Alexia shyly returned his grin, still uncertain where this was going and if she was reading any of it right. 

Distantly, she heard the clock bell chiming the hour and remembered she was supposed to meet her mother and Oriana for tea. And she should probably be wearing just about anything other than stained, worn practice leathers when she did so. 

Deliberately not thinking about whether she was frustrated or grateful for the interruption, Alexia hefted her practice sword up onto her shoulder. “Maybe it’s not motivation to win.” She strolled past him to step up onto the mounting block that let her reach the rafter where she concealed the weapon between sparring sessions. She carefully tucked the blade into its hiding place and tossed Ali a smile over her shoulder before hopping down. “But what about incentive to show up?”


	2. Desvio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> desvio – in later Spanish schools of fencing, the technique of redirecting an attacking blow with a deflecting action rather than a solid block

Six months later, the new stakes were still in effect, and sparring practice had become a weekly routine again. Alexia was pretty sure she’d gotten better at both swordplay and kissing; she’d certainly had lots of practice, and Ali seemed favorably impressed by her efforts. She was certainly enjoying the learning process. 

Today, she arrived a little earlier than they agreed, just in case Ali got off his guard shift sooner than expected. It was a long shot, but there wasn’t anywhere else she’d rather be. She retrieved her practice blade from its rafter and settled onto the tack box to wait, idly swinging her feet while contemplating her new disarming technique and the feel of Ali’s lips on her neck. 

When he finally came in the stable door a few minutes later, she leapt to her feet and had to restrain herself from running over to throw her arms around him. There were rules to this game, and she couldn’t just kiss him without a reason. No matter how much of a good idea it sounded like it would be. 

So instead, she smiled and dropped into a fighting stance. “Ready?” 

Ali raised an eyebrow with a kind of bemused expression but copied her, readying his shield and sword. “You’re in a hurry today.” 

She took a couple of warm-up swings, testing his reflexes, unsurprised when he blocked them easily. “It’s been a long week.” 

“Really?” The pleased smirk that crossed his face was almost enough to make her want to drop the sword and skip to the kissing part. But Alexia had discipline, so she ignored the impulse, focusing her attention on delivering a wide cut that forced him back a few hasty steps to get out of the arc threatened by her blade. 

The bout intensified after that, leaving little time for further conversation. Alexia frowned as the match continued. Alistair wasn’t putting up nearly as much of a fight as usual. His blocks were slow, and he was giving up opportunities to slip attacks under her guard. When she scored a touch that counted as lethal, Alexia felt frustrated rather than satisfied. He could have avoided that if he’d really been trying. What was the point in beating someone who let you win? 

Alistair yielded with a small, eager grin, and she felt a surge of both annoyance and desire. Maker, she wanted to kiss him. She’d hardly been able to think about anything else all week, and she thought Oriana was starting to suspect what she was up to, if not with whom. And now he was here in front of her, ready and waiting. 

But they had rules for how this was supposed to go. Throwing the match wasn’t part of the deal. He couldn’t forfeit just because he wanted her to kiss him. Her breath caught at the realization that he might want this every bit as much as she did, and that only made her more angry. How dare he change the rules and complicate things? This wasn’t anything serious – it couldn’t be; she was still the teyrn’s daughter – and they both knew it. 

The irritation quickly eclipsed the want as she closed the distance to where Ali was standing. Quickly, she pecked him on the cheek and backed away. His expression shifted from playful anticipation to wounded bewilderment. 

Alexia refused to give in, glaring at him firmly. “If you want a real kiss, give me a real fight.” 

Ali’s cheeks flushed at that, whether with embarrassment or anger she couldn’t tell. But he definitely quit holding back, lunging almost immediately into a flurry of quick attacks she was hard pressed to block and evade. 

The rest of the match continued at a similar furious pace, and Alexia would be surprised if they weren’t both nursing some new bruises the next day from blows only partially deflected. But when she finally backed him into one of the stall doors, it was with an exultant sense of satisfaction. 

The instant he yielded, she dropped her sword and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Caught off guard by her vehemence, he staggered under the impact, ending up pressed back against the wooden stall door. Dimly, Alexia heard his sword and shield clatter to the ground as his arms wrapped around her. His mouth opened to hers with a soft noise of contentment, and she raked her fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck. 

Alexia let go of thinking and reveled in the sensations, the taste and feel of him. She kissed him until she couldn’t breathe. Reluctantly, she stopped, giving in to the need for air, but she wasn’t ready to stop touching him yet. Nestling her face against the side of his neck, she inhaled his scent and sighed, relaxing into the comfortable warmth of his embrace. “Maker, Ali, it’s been a long week.” 

He didn’t say anything, and Alexia wondered if she’d overstepped. The words had been innocuous, but she’d let her tone reveal how much she needed him, how much this connection meant to her. Maybe it had been a mistake. She’d probably made him uncomfortable. They didn’t talk about this, certainly didn’t bring emotions into it. It wasn’t about that; it couldn’t be. Nothing serious could ever happen between the teyrn’s daughter and a guard. 

As the seconds stretched on, Alexia became more certain she’d made a mistake, and she tensed up, losing the sense of relaxation and contentment she usually got from contact with Ali. She needed to find a way to fix this, to reassure him that she still remembered the rules. 

Then Ali finally broke the silence with a soft chuckle she could feel as much as hear. “Lexia, you are the most confusing woman I know.” His hand came up to toy with strands of hair that had come free from her loose braid, and she calmed under his touch. “Not that I have that much for comparison. Most women have the good sense to avoid me.” 

Alexia chuckled, nuzzling against his neck with a contented sigh. “They have no idea what they’re missing. But let’s not tell them. I’d rather keep you all to myself.” 

“I’m all yours.” His hand stroking her hair stilled, then moved to gently brush a thumb across her cheek. “For as long as you want me.” 

Even as she basked in the warmth of his touch, part of Alexia’s mind warned her they’d gone too far, said things they shouldn’t mean and made promises that couldn’t be kept. But then Ali’s mouth found the sensitive spot on her neck, and words ceased to matter. 

Dimly, she thought they ought to go back to sparring, returning to safer ground, but she couldn’t really bring herself to care. 

 

A few weeks later, Alistair got a promotion within the guard. They celebrated with fresh-baked fruit tarts Alexia snuck out of the kitchens to surprise him. The sweet taste of strawberries on Ali’s lips made her want to steal some for him every time the cooks baked them. And later at dinner, the sudden memory of it caused her to completely lose track of the conversation when the rest of the tarts were served. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice her preoccupation, as they were largely distracted by six-year-old Oren’s spirited attempts to devour an entire tart in one bite. 

One of Alistair’s duties in his new position was standing guard on formal occasions. The impending increase in those events had likely contributed to the need for promoting additional guards capable of handling ceremonial duties as well as protecting the household. Over the past few months, Eleanor had been subtly reminding her friends among the nobility that her daughter’s betrothal had been nullified years ago. An unattached teyrn’s daughter was an intriguing prospect, and word spread quickly that the Cousland girl was open to suitors. 

Following Alexia’s eighteenth birthday, Eleanor began hosting a series of receptions, parties, and other social gatherings, to which she invited various friends, all of whom just happened to have marriageable sons or brothers. Highever largely eclipsed Denerim as Ferelden’s social center for the season. The eligible men came with the hope of impressing a teyrn’s daughter, and the eligible women followed. 

If any of the gossips were hoping to see “Bryce’s spitfire” have fits about this arrangement, they were destined to be disappointed. Eleanor had discussed her intentions with Alexia before the first tentative invitations were hinted at, and Alexia approved. It would be entirely appropriate for her to be married by twenty, and she appreciated having time to get to know her prospective husband before they formally committed to one another. The series of events had the added benefit of providing opportunities to become acquainted with much of the nobility in her generation, connections that she could make use of to benefit Fergus and her future husband in years to come. 

The downside of Alexia’s increased number of social engagements and Alistair’s busier guard schedule was that they couldn’t find common time for meeting very often. Ali began canceling their weekly sessions fairly often, even standing her up a couple of times. As a result, Alexia was spending much more time being courted than sparring, to the point that dance steps were coming more naturally to her than footwork. The one time she confused the two during a sparring match, Ali teased her mercilessly until she shut him up with a pointed reminder that it wasn’t _her_ fault she was out of practice at swordplay. 

Today, she was waiting for him as usual, hoping his schedule wouldn’t have been altered and that he’d show up as they planned. It had been a month since she’d seen him anywhere but across the great hall in uniform. When the door opened and he came in, a surge of joy propelled her to meet him halfway, in the middle of their informal sparring ring. 

Ali’s answering smile was hollow, not quite reaching his eyes. He looked worn down, like he’d been working too much and not sleeping nearly enough. Alexia resolved to go easy on him today because it looked like he really needed a break. They could shift the balance this afternoon from sparring to cuddling. Her combat skills were getting rusty and needed work, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. Entirely for his sake, of course. 

Before she could suggest a change of plans, Alistair raised his practice sword into a guard position. “Ready to dance, my lady?” 

Alexia grinned, bringing her blade up to match. “With you? Always.” 

His lips twisted into an unfamiliar expression just before he lunged into his first attack. Alexia tried to make note of it, adding it to her catalogue of tells to look for during sparring. He must have picked up some new habits training with the elite guards instead of younger recruits. 

It became quickly apparent that Alexia was every bit as out of practice as she’d feared. Alistair was also moving more slowly than usual, which she suspected was the only reason she was able to hold him off as long as she did. Even so, it was only a few minutes before the match reached its inevitable conclusion and she was forced to yield. 

She tilted her head up expectantly as Ali stepped in close. He hesitated for a moment, studying her face, and she thought his eyes looked dimmer, more shadowed than usual. She longed to kiss him and bring the smile back to his face, but he’d won the match, so she had to wait for him to start. 

Instead, he turned away, face twisting with pain. “I… I can’t.” 

Alarmed, she reached for his arm, catching him before he could leave. “What’s wrong?” 

“Lexia, I can’t keep doing this.” He kept his back to her, face hidden as he scrubbed a hand over it, but his voice sounded almost broken, and it tore at her heart. 

She wanted to brush it off, offer to get a smaller sword to reduce the bruising, but something in his tone made joking impossible. “I don’t understand.” Her own voice sounded small and lost. 

Ali turned back to face her, taking her hand and holding it gently between his. Any comfort she might have taken from that gesture was dispelled by the serious set to his jaw, the pain in his eyes as he tried to explain. “I’ve been on guard duty at your mother’s parties, wearing shiny armor and propping up the wall.” 

Alexia nodded mutely. She’d seen him there, wearing formal armor and looking as stiff and disciplined as the rest of the ceremonial guards. Why was that upsetting him? 

His mouth twisted. “Do you know how hard it is to watch you?” Alexia started to shake her head in confusion, and he pressed on. “Almost every night, I’m there watching you dance and laugh and flirt with all of those noble peacocks.” 

“I don’t flirt!” Her reaction was immediate and defensive. No one had ever accused her of being an empty-headed coquettish ornament like some noble’s daughters, and it hurt to have that assumption come from someone who should know her so much better than that. “I’m talking and getting to know potential fiancés and allies.” 

His sudden laugh was harsh and ugly-sounding. “Yes, because how to describe your behavior is what we should be focusing on here.” 

“Ali, I don’t understand what you want me to say.” She glared at him, frustration making her more cross than she intended. “I don’t know that your problem is with this.” A sudden thought occurred to her, and she softened. “I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve been ignoring you. I miss spending time with you, and I’d love to talk to you, but the whole reason mother’s hosting all of these people is for me to choose a husband. Also, it would probably get you in trouble with the guard captain if you were socializing on duty.” 

Ali shook his head, disbelief clear on his face. “You really don’t get it, do you?” He squeezed her hand to emphasize his point. “Alexia, I can’t stand watching you choose someone else to spend your life with. And it’s stupid. Because a teyrn’s daughter can’t marry a bastard guard. I know that. But it didn’t stop me from falling in love with you anyway.” 

Alexia stared at him, slack jawed, her shock turning into horror. “Don’t say that.” Shaking her head in denial and feeling tears prickle at her eyes, she pulled her hand free and took a step back as if she could escape the words that hung in the air between them like an accusation. “Ali, you can’t mean that.” 

His face shuttered, becoming a hard, angry mask over his pain. “Of course not. Because a nobody like me isn’t allowed to have feelings for a noblewoman. So clearly I must be mistaken. I’m sure I’ll get over it.” He turned sharply and walked away from her, abandoning his practice gear where he’d dropped it. 

The bitterness in his voice and coldness in his eyes cut at her, and Alexia felt the tears start to spill over onto her cheeks. She wanted to run after him, to call him back, to do anything that would stop him from walking out of that door. 

But what could she say? He was right: they couldn’t have a future together, not the way he seemed to want. And it _was_ stupid of him to have let himself pretend otherwise and to blame her for having remembered the truth. It wasn’t her fault that he’d spent the last year lying to himself and thinking they could have something real. 

Her shoulders heaved with the first sob when Alexia realized she’d been lying to herself, too, as the door thudded closed behind him and she felt her heart break.


	3. Cobb's Traverse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cobb’s Traverse – (sometimes called the "ninth parry") retreating indefinitely, i.e. running away

Alexia wasn’t surprised when Alistair didn’t show up for their practice session the following week. He hadn’t confirmed or cancelled the usual meeting; he hadn’t actually spoken to her since walking out of the stables after their fight – or whatever it had been. He’d avoided her as much as possible, and the few times she had seen him on guard duty during the week, he’d refused to even make eye contact, looking through her like she wasn’t there. So it was incredibly unlikely he was planning to come for sparring practice. 

But she waited in the empty stables for a full hour just in case, clinging to the vanishingly remote possibility that he might be willing to pretend nothing had happened – or at least talk about it – and still be her friend, even if they couldn’t be more than that. At the end of the hour, she was forced to admit it wasn’t going to be that easy. If she wanted to have a conversation with Ali, it was up to her to force the issue. 

Alexia found her chance three days later at the next reception, when she spotted Alistair among the guards stationed along the edge of the hall. She casually circulated through the crowd, making her way in his direction without the movement appearing purposeful. This conversation, however it turned out, wasn’t something she wanted to draw attention to. 

As she gradually wended her way towards Alistair’s assigned position, she chanced frequent glances at him. It seemed like he’d noticed her approach, if the way he was studiously ignoring her was any indication. She deftly slipped out of the conversation she’d been engaged in and, keeping her face carefully neutral in case anyone was watching – a skill she’d come to think of as the noblewoman’s version of a soldier’s mask – took the last few steps towards Alistair’s guard post. 

When she got to him, Alistair took a step forward and bowed his head respectfully. “May I offer assistance, Lady Cousland?” It was formal and appropriate and absolutely, completely wrong in a way that shook the confidence she’d built up for this encounter. 

Determined, she forged ahead despite the cold reception. “I was hoping we might talk.” 

When he raised his head from the slight bow, his eyes were distant, gaze fixed on a point somewhere beyond her right shoulder. “Guards aren’t at liberty to socialize while on duty.” His voice was flat and unrecognizable. If she hadn’t been looking at his face, she might have thought the words had come from someone else, someone she didn’t know. 

“Later, then. When you’re off shift.” Alexia felt the desperation welling up in her as she struggled to get through the wall he’d built between them. 

“No.” He still refused to look at her, staring across the room as if she wasn’t there, and her hope deflated. He felt like less than a stranger; maybe there was nothing left to salvage. “If there’s nothing else you need, my lady?” 

“Ali, please…” She reached a hand up to touch his face but stopped short, deterred more by his icy demeanor than the possible audience. “I miss you.” Her voice was a whisper, a desperate plea. She hated being weak enough to beg, but losing him was worse. 

Finally, his eyes flicked to meet hers, and she could see the pain in them. But the determined set of his jaw never wavered. That was how she knew she had lost. Ali was stubborn, and when he got that look, it meant he was digging his heels in. In all the years they’d been friends, she had never managed to win an argument when Ali set his jaw like that. 

The resignation must have shown on her face. Ali bowed his head again, breaking eye contact, and gave her a formal salute of fist over heart as he stepped back to his place against the wall. She didn’t have to see his face to know it was goodbye. 

Chin held up and teeth clenched tight to fight off the tears that threatened to drown her, Alexia turned and walked back into the party as if nothing of importance had occurred, schooling her face into the best mask possible. It had been bad enough showing her weakness to Alistair; there was no way she would put it on display for everyone else. 

Her path was intercepted by an arl’s son who greeted her with an overdone expression of concern. “Was that guard causing you problems, Lady Alexia? I could teach him manners.” 

For a fleeting moment, she was tempted to say yes and watch him try. She’d never liked Vaughan, and she doubted Ali would even break a sweat taking him down. He’d probably enjoy the chance to put one over on one of the most annoying of the “peacocks”. But the satisfaction of watching a petty tyrant get a bloodied lip wasn’t worth the scandal or the trouble it would cause. She cared about Ali, even if he never wanted to speak to her again. He had worked for years to be accepted as a guard despite his birth and background, and she wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything, especially not a puffed-up idiot who thought his father’s title made him someone important. So letting Ali handle Vaughan would have to remain an idle fantasy. 

Fixing a polite but disinterested expression on her face, she turned to acknowledge Vaughan’s question. “That won’t be necessary. It was a minor misunderstanding. He looked familiar, so I thought he was someone I knew.” She shrugged and forced a smile that felt so brittle she thought it might shatter. “I was mistaken.” 

 

The next day, Alexia received an invitation to attend an afternoon tea with her mother. Smiling, she thanked the Maker for small, everyday miracles; this was precisely what she needed. Tea was Eleanor’s preferred social lubricant and her solution to everything from awkward social obligations to heartbreak. Alexia could think of few major events in her young life that hadn’t been followed by tea with her mother. The familiar ritual would be a comforting touchstone, even if she had no intention of discussing why she needed it. 

Alexia arrived promptly at the indicated time, a polite smile on her face in preparation for an afternoon of gossip and idle chatter. With so many guests under their roof, she was taken aback to discover a small table set for three, two of the places occupied by her mother and Oriana. Tea today was going to be a simple family affair. Relieved of the need to be charming and witty for company, Alexia dropped the mask and slipped gratefully into the remaining chair, inhaling the soothing steam rising from the cup her mother had just finished pouring. 

While they sipped the fragrant brew, Oriana amused them with stories of Oren’s latest escapades. Fergus had promised the boy a mabari pup of his very own, and he had taken to following the kennel master everywhere, as if expecting the man to produce a puppy at any time. Alexia smiled fondly, remembering her own childish delight at receiving Kazaril, her mabari hound. Oren was considerably younger than she had been, but she was looking forward to watching her nephew discover the joys and challenges of training his first pup. 

As Oriana reached the end of a particularly amusing anecdote, Eleanor set her cup onto its saucer with a decisive clink. Alexia had never been sure exactly how her mother managed to change the tone in a room with such subtle gestures, but she couldn’t remember the teyrna ever needing to raise her voice to draw the attention of every eye in the great hall. 

“Alexia, dear, I couldn’t help but notice you favoring the Wulff boys last night. Every time I looked up, one or the other of them had you on the dance floor.” 

Alexia took a sip of her tea to give herself a moment to think, a highly transparent tactic, especially when used against the woman who had taught it to her. Eleanor’s lips curled into a tiny smile of warm amusement, and she waited patiently. 

Alexia thought quickly. Clearly the intimate family tea was a status check, Eleanor’s way of gathering information about her daughter’s potential suitors without applying undue pressure. Had she done something last night to prompt this? Alexia tried to remember, but most of the evening was a blur. She hadn’t been thinking of much beyond getting through each dance or conversation without bursting into tears or running from the room to escape all of the watching eyes. All except the one pair she cared about, whose owner had strictly ignored her every time she glanced his way. 

From what she recalled, Alexia had simply agreed to dance with anyone who asked, including Thomas Howe, who she usually tried to avoid. So any pattern her mother observed had less to do with Alexia’s preferences than the persistence of the young men in question. She needed to head off any assumptions before they went any further. 

Alexia lowered her teacup with an amused smile. “The Wulff brothers.” She chuckled. “Their attention would be more flattering if I was convinced it had more to do with me than competing with each other.” 

Oriana laughed. “Ah, that does sound like brothers…”

Eleanor nodded receipt of Alexia’s implied message and sat back sipping her tea as Oriana launched into tales of her own childhood and watching her older brothers’ attempts to outdo one another. 

The conversation wandered through various inconsequential topics after that, until Alexia seized a lull to ask something that had been on her mind. “Do you think one of father’s knights might be available for combat instruction?” She couldn’t replace Ali on a personal level, but continuing her sword training might provide a welcome distraction. 

“I suspect something could be arranged.” Eleanor regarded her daughter with a curious look that suggested Alexia hadn’t managed to sound as casual as she’d hoped. “If you’ve gotten tired of sparring with the household guards.” 

Alexia hid a wry smile behind the rim of her teacup. Why had she thought she could hide anything from her mother? She picked her next words carefully, trying to make the decision sound practical rather than personal and hoping to avoid an emotional reaction she would have to explain. “I thought I might benefit from more formal teaching.” 

Eleanor nodded. “We’ll speak with your father about which of his knights might be inclined to treat you as a squire a few days a week.” 

The conversation drifted on to other topics, but the sympathetic looks Alexia was receiving from both her mother and sister-in-law made her wonder if she’d ever had any secrets at all.


	4. Coup de Main

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coup de main – a kill by a single, quick thrust or cut

**Two years later**

Alexia crashed through the dark woods, fleeing the ruins the midnight attack had made of her life and home. The moonlight filtering through the branches would have been enough to guide her feet, if her vision hadn’t been blurred by tears. As it was, she relied on the mabari hound loping at her side to steer her away from the worst of the hazards. Kazaril had always protected her, so she hadn’t been surprised when he found his way through the blood and chaos to her side. If only Oren’s pup had done the same, maybe… 

She fought back another round of wracking sobs, needing to save her breath for running. Her mother had made her promise to get away safely, to go after Fergus and warn him. He was the teyrn now, and he needed to know not to trust the swords at his back held by supposed allies. Even if it was a flimsy pretext to get her out of danger, she wasn’t going to fail at her mother’s last request. 

Swiping away her tears, she tried not to think about the bodies of her loved ones – Father, Oren, Oriana, with Mother and Fergus’s friend Rory soon to join them – lying in pools of blood. There would be time enough to deal with her grief later. For now, she needed to put as much ground as possible between herself and Highever. Mother had wanted her to get away, so she needed to run, no matter how much her heart pounded and her throat burned. 

Pressing a hand against the sharp stitch in her side, she staggered on through the woods, smashing through branches and trampling dry bracken underfoot. If any of Howe’s men came after her, they would be able to follow her trail by the sound alone. 

If any of Howe’s men came after her, she would kill them. 

Alexia had never taken a life before tonight. But waking up to see men with drawn, bloodied swords in her home… Her only regret was that she hadn’t killed them sooner, before the slaughter started. Any guilt she might have felt was burned away by the memory of her brother’s defenseless wife and child sprawled dead in their own bedroom. The men who had done that deserved no mercy. 

Thinking about it was too much, the horrific images seared into her mind sapping the strength from her body. She staggered and dropped to her knees, catching herself with her hands and feeling the bite of dried bracken cutting into her hands. Kazaril was immediately at her side, nosing at her with a whuffling whine. Sobbing brokenly, she buried her face in his ruff, letting his fur muffle the sound of her crying. 

The darkness closed in around her as she knelt in a familiar place suddenly turned sinister and foreign, clinging to the loyal hound who was all she’d managed to salvage of her home and family. 

 

Alexia woke the next morning, cold and stiff, as the weak light of dawn gradually permeated through the woods. She sat up, curling her knees tight against her chest and huddling over them to conserve heat. She knew Highever could be cold in the early mornings this time of year, but she was rarely outside to experience it. And never without a cloak. 

As she blinked the sleep from her dry eyes, she became more aware of her physical state. Her clothes were clammy from the morning dew, and her face felt grimy from the previous night’s weeping. The only part of her that wasn’t cold was the side where Kazaril had curled up, his body heat soaking into her and dispelling some of the chill. She burrowed her fingers into his ruff in search of warmth, flexing them to restore circulation. 

Glancing down at her arm, she saw a splash dried blood smeared across her sleeve and fought back a sudden surge of fresh tears. She had almost hoped the previous night had been a terrible nightmare, but the blood made it starkly real. Her family was dead. Her home had been taken from her. She had killed some of the men responsible. _Although not nearly enough of them._

Her face felt suddenly colder, and she brushed her hand over it, surprised to pull her fingers away wet. She wiped the moisture off on her pants, distantly wondering how she could have any tears left to cry. There had to be a limit; maybe she would find it in the next few days, assuming she survived that long. 

Kazaril whined, licking at her hand, and she refocused on her surroundings, fighting the numbing fatigue of exhaustion and grief. “Thanks, boy,” she mumbled, stroking his head. “And you’re right; we need to get going.” She struggled to her feet, wincing as she stretched muscles stiff from a night of panicked flight and sleeping on cold earth. Picking up the unsheathed sword she’d taken from the first of the Howe soldiers Kazaril had brought down, she tested its heft and weight. It was smaller than her preferred type of blade, but she’d made good use of it. Ultimately, it was a weapon, whatever its size, and she felt better for having it. 

While Alexia had been waking up, more light had filtered into the forest, giving her a better sense of where she was. These were – had been – her father’s lands, and while she might not know every inch of them, she was far from lost. The realization gave her comfort. 

“Okay, Kaz, we’re going to find Fergus, which means south to where the armies are gathering at Ostagar.” She studied their surroundings more intently, reading the lay of the land and the position of the sun. “I think if we head this way, that will take us to the southern road.” 

Acting with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel, she set out in her chosen direction. Kazaril let out a happy bark and fell in at her side. Fleetingly, Alexia wondered if the Fereldan insistence about the intelligence of mabari was just a way to make a person feel better about talking to herself. She quickly stifled the disloyal thought. Kazaril had saved her life last night, probably more than once; she had no reason to doubt his commitment or ability. “Good boy, Kaz.” She scritched the short fur on the top of his broad skull, and he responded with a friendly nudge that nearly knocked her over. 

Alexia’s navigation proved to be more or less correct, and they came across the southern road sooner than she had been expecting. Her spirits lifted at the sight of the track cutting through the dense forest. As she prepared to step out onto its packed dirt surface, Kazaril gave a warning growl low in his throat. 

Freezing, Alexia paused, crouching down into the undergrowth to listen for what had alarmed the hound. Within moments, she heard it, too: the jingle and tromp of armored men. Howe’s soldiers. Alexia cursed herself for a fool. What had she been thinking, heading straight to the road that the troops would be taking south to the battle? 

Alexia backed further into the woods, dragging Kaz with her and hunching over to make herself as small and inconspicuous as possible. They were as well hidden as she could manage by the time the vanguard of the soldiers came into sight. Alexia froze completely, hoping to avoid movement that might draw attention. She just had to wait and avoid detection while they passed by, and then she could devise a new plan to get to Fergus. 

Remaining silent proved to be more difficult than she’d expected. The sight of so many men dressed in armor and Howe’s colors, exactly like the ones who had killed her family, sparked something in her, a potent mixture of grief and rage. She gripped her stolen sword in one hand and shoved the knuckles of the other against her mouth to stifle the hysterical sobs that threatened to emerge. 

She managed to stay silent and hidden until the last of the troop marched past, but it was a near thing. As soon as she thought it was safe, Alexia let out a sobbing breath and pressed her face against Kazaril. She talked to the hound, soothing nonsense more for her benefit than his, until she had regained her composure. Swiping uselessly at her tear-streaked face, she rose back to her feet, fists clenched in determination. 

“So much for the road.” She brushed away the dried leaves clinging to her pants. “We’ll have to stick to the woods. It may be slower, but it’s safe.” Alexia imagined most people would be daunted by the prospect of overland travel like this, especially without any supplies or provisions, but she had grown up in these woods. They were Cousland lands, no matter who currently held the keep, and they would sustain her. 

“Let’s go, Kaz. We have a lot of ground to cover.” 

 

After three days of overland travel, Alexia decided to risk the roads again. She couldn’t be certain they were clear of danger, but she hadn’t seen any signs of Howe’s soldiers since the first day, and she had come far enough that she was no longer on land she knew. She thought the roads were probably less of a risk than continuing to travel on unfamiliar ground. 

The next time she and Kazaril passed close to a cleared trail, she took it, following the rough track generally southwards and hoping to encounter other travelers. When she finally rounded a bend and glimpsed a figure walking ahead of her, Alexia felt a surge of apprehension. She needed to be careful about who she spoke to; it was dangerous for a noblewoman to be traveling alone. Then she nearly laughed aloud. No one who saw her in her current state – dressed in dirty, blood-spattered leathers with her face covered in grime and her hair coming loose from a snarled mess of a braid – would ever suspect she was a teyrn’s daughter, raised in a castle. They were more likely to assume she was a bandit, prowling through the woods with a worn sword and trained warhound. 

Trying on this new, fierce persona – it might be nice to be a desperate bandit for a while, anything other than a scared orphan – Alexia quickened her pace to catch up with the traveler, hoping for news, directions, and maybe even provisions, if she was very lucky. 

 

That first encounter with a local huntsman – although Alexia suspected the term poacher might have been more accurate – hadn’t yielded much more than confirmation she was still heading south, information Alexia could have gotten from a quick glance at the sky. The next few travelers proved more helpful, and by the end of the day she managed to acquire directions towards Ostagar, reports on the conditons of the roads along the way, and even some dried meat provided in exchange for fresh game caught by Kazaril. The woman who made the trade seemed to consider it too good to be believed, fresh meat for jerky, but Alexia was far more interested in convenience than taste. Food she could eat while walking easily trumped something that required a campfire to be safely consumed. Flavor was irrelevant. 

She wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or offended that none of the people she encountered had any idea she was a Cousland. It meant no one had tried to offer false sympathy for deaths of people they didn’t even know, but at the same time it stung that she could go entirely unrecognized on lands belonging to her father’s pledged vassals. Of course, after catching sight of her reflection in a well-lit puddle, Alexia had to admit she wouldn’t have recognized herself either. She really did look like a bandit. Hopefully none of Fergus’s bodyguards would try to run her through once she finally found her brother. 

The following day, Alexia and Kazaril reached the North Road, a paved royal highway rather than the local dirt tracks she had been using thus far. The traffic increased markedly, and she began making better progress, in part due to hitching rides on the carts of traders eager to share gossip. Alexia spoke of nothing personal, nothing painful, only passing on stories she had heard from others on the road, but it seemed to be sufficient. She suspected many of them were more interested in simply having company, particularly in the form of a pleasant, well-spoken young woman. Alexia got the feeling she was something of a welcome novelty to people who lived on the road and thought they’d seen everything. She even agreed to share camp with traders a couple of nights, hoping the company would distract her from her grief and confident that Kazaril could deter any inappropriate attention. The soldier’s mask she’d been wearing since leaving the woods held well enough during the day, and if any of the traders heard the sobs she tried to muffle with borrowed blankets, they were polite or callous enough not to ask. 

Everyone she’d spoken to since reaching the North Road advised against cutting through the Bannorn on her way south, since the region’s typical problems had intensified as everyone tried to take advantage of temporary power vacuums during the general muster of troops. Alexia heeded their advice and planned to stick to the main trade routes, following the North Road until it met up with the Imperial Highway near Lake Calenhad. The indirect route made her want to scream with frustration sometimes, especially when she imagined Howe and his troops at Fergus’s side as his trusted allies, vipers who could turn on him at any moment. But she couldn’t do Fergus any good if she got caught up in the feuds that passed for Bannorn politics, either. 

 

Traffic was even heavier on the Imperial Highway, most of it on foot and heading north. Alexia’s grimy, unkempt appearance no longer seemed particularly out of place, and she passed a few people carrying even less than the meager stash of provisions and supplies she had bartered for along the way. She wondered where everyone was headed, but few of them were willing to make eye contact, much less stop for a chat. 

Around midday, Alexia finally spotted her chance to get answers. A dwarven merchant had pulled his wagon onto the grassy verge to let his oxen graze while he ate his lunch. Keeping her arms loose and clear from her sword to appear non-threatening, she approached him. He was dark-bearded with one of those odd dwarven marks on his weather-roughened cheek. 

He glanced up as Alexia got near and eyed her critically. “You’re going the wrong way, sister.” 

Bemused, she shook her head. “I’m headed to Ostagar. I’m pretty sure they still keep it south of here.” 

The man shrugged, unimpressed. “It’s your pyre.” He turned back to his lunch, clearly dismissing her from his thoughts. 

Alarm spiked at his words. “Did something go wrong with the battle? Is it the darkspawn?” The Blight had just been a rumor; even Father hadn’t taken it terribly seriously, despite calling up his troops. 

The dwarf snorted, laughing unkindly. “No, of course not. All of these people thought it sounded like a nice time to visit Lake Calenhad.” He gestured at the crowded road, watching with a sort of disdainful amusement as she caught on. 

Refugees. The highway was full of refugees fleeing north, trying to escape the darkspawn. She’d been too caught up in her own tragedy to even think about what sort of disaster would be required to motivate this many woefully unprepared people to take to the roads. How had she been so short-sighted? “What happened?” 

“They lost.” The dwarf seemed to find some sort of perverse entertainment in her reactions, like a little boy poking at a small animal with a stick. Alexia knew she should stop giving him the satisfaction, but the words spilled out without her permission. 

“My brother’s with the army. I have to find him. I need to go to Ostagar.” 

The dwarf shook his head in slow disbelief, marveling at the crazy woman, but eventually he seemed to take pity on her. “Listen, sister, the only thing you’re going to find if you go to Ostagar is ravens and darkspawn. There won’t even be any corpses. Because the ravens and darkspawn ate them, all right? But a lot of the soldiers got out before it got too bad. The general and his troops went back to Denerim, and the rest are lost in the Korcari Wilds, making friends with the Chasind.” He shrugged. “So forget Ostagar. Your best bet is either Denerim or Lothering. That’s the closest safe place to find stragglers coming out of the Wilds.” 

Alexia blinked, trying to work through the sudden flood of information. “My brother wasn’t with Loghain’s troops. We’re from Highever.” 

The dwarf snorted an amused laugh. “Then it looks like you were headed the right way after all, sister. Lothering’s just down this road.” He grinned, showing broad, slightly uneven teeth. “Make sure you stop before you get to Ostagar, though. The cloud of ravens should be a clue.”


	5. Reprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reprise – renewing the attack after a return to guard

Lothering was not what Alexia expected, although she couldn’t have said why. 

After three days, she concluded that the small farming village felt both disturbingly empty and uncomfortably overfull. Many of the townsfolk were absent, presumably among the refugees she had encountered on the road, and their abandoned homes and crops made the community seem desolate. At the same time, the town was crowded with soldiers and those seeking them, a mass of desperate people out of place, clutching at hope. Like Alexia herself. 

Despite the influx of people filling the town following the battle, she’d had little trouble getting a room at the town’s single inn. With no experience at this sort of travel, she couldn’t guess whether the price asked for it was reasonable, but it did occur to her that the innkeeper might be overcharging due to demand. She found the number of empty rooms somewhat unsettling, especially after she saw the number of small tents that sprung up in the town square each evening. Alexia had purchased a tent from the surly dwarven merchant – despite his gruff demeanor, he’d been surprisingly helpful once they’d talked for a while – and while it had made the rest of her journey more comfortable, she couldn’t imagine sleeping in it by choice when there was a roof and mattress available. 

When asked about the encampment, however, the grey-haired tavern keeper had shrugged. “Most of them aren’t staying long. The soldiers are gathering by regiment, trying to get the units organized to keep tally. Once a group’s fully accounted for, one way or t’other, they pack up and leave.” 

Alexia had remained skeptical. “Why not be comfortable in the meantime?” 

That had drawn a chuckle and an amused wink. “I’ve never met a common soldier who would rather spend coin on a room when there was a perfectly good tent and alcohol available. Waste of good drinking money, they say, and who am I to complain about that?” 

Neither the garrulous barkeep nor any of his clientele had heard of soldiers from Highever passing through town. But when Alexia explained she’d come in search of her brother who had been with that troop – omitting any specific details about his identity or her own – the old man had patted her hand kindly and promised to keep an ear open for word. 

She’d searched for information herself, as well, circulating among the soldiers filling the town. As the tavern keeper had said, the population of the temporary encampments changed daily as stragglers arrived and units set out for home. Alexia hadn’t found anyone from Highever, or even anyone who had seen the Cousland troop’s colors since the start of the battle. The closest she got in three days of inquiries was someone who thought they’d been sent out scouting in the Wilds before the fighting had started. That might explain why they weren’t with the rest of the army, but it didn’t tell her where they were now. 

After the third day of walking among the tents, asking the same questions and receiving the same non-answers, Alexia had started wondering if coming to Lothering had been a mistake. Maybe she should be looking for information about Fergus somewhere else, because she certainly wasn’t finding any here. Discouraged, she’d returned to the inn, planning to lie down for an hour or so before dinner. She hadn’t expected to sleep – the last good sleep she’d gotten had been in her own bed, before… everything – but maybe she could at least rest. 

The innkeeper had looked up from his ledgers when she came in the door with a grunt of recognition. “Man came by earlier.” He was as sparing with words as with hot water. “Looking for you. Said he’s from Highever. Told him to come back after dinner. Want him sent up?” 

Alexia had been sure she’d misheard. After three days of searching the town for her brother’s soldiers, one of them had found her; it seemed unbelievable. She’d stood in stunned silence for a moment before realizing the innkeeper was waiting for an answer. “Yes, of course. If he’s from my brother’s regiment, I want to speak with him.” 

“In your room? You sure?” A frown had creased the man’s stern face. “Soldier type, could be rough.” 

She’d nodded firmly. “If he has information, I want it. And if he’s wasting my time, Kazaril will take care of him.” She’d patted the mabari’s head, drawing a snort of appreciation from the innkeeper. 

“No blood on the linens.” From the way his lined face had crinkled around the grin, Alexia assumed he didn’t smile often. She’d gone up to her room and paced, too anxious for her intended nap, while waiting for the tavern’s dinner hour. 

Now, stomach churning around the heavy stew the tavern keeper had served, she waited impatiently for the alleged Highever veteran to show up. Belatedly, she wondered how she was going to convince him of her identity. Not all of her father’s soldiers knew her on sight, and she didn’t exactly look like a teyrn’s daughter in her travel-stained leathers. She’d done her best to wash off the worst of the road grime and comb the snarl from her hair, but no one would mistake her for a Denerim society lady any time soon. Hopefully her general demeanor would be sufficiently convincing if she had to persuade a stranger. 

Her scattered thoughts were interrupted by a rap on the door. Finally. Kazaril’s ears perked up, and he gave a small whuffing bark, head tilted curiously. The knock sounded hesitant rather than aggressive; maybe he was as uncertain about this meeting as she was. Or maybe the door was simply thicker than she’d realized and muffling the sound. Either way, enough stalling. 

She took a deep breath and pulled open the door. Her jaw dropped, and all of her plans to prove her identity became moot. 

Ali. The Highever soldier at her door was Ali, and he looked at surprised as she was. 

The shock of seeing him overwhelmed her, someone so unexpectedly familiar after days of feeling utterly alone. It was too much. She felt the soldier’s mask she’d been keeping over her emotions shatter in the face of someone she didn’t have to pretend for. With a gasp, she threw her arms around Ali’s neck, dissolving into sobs that soaked the shoulder of his armor padding. 

His arms came around her in a grip that was almost painfully tight. He pressed his face against her hair, murmuring something that sounded like a prayer. She thought he might be crying, too. 

As always, she was reassured by the feeling of security that came from Ali’s embrace. It was like the past two years had never happened, like he hadn’t walked away from their friendship and cut himself out of her life. 

Once she could catch her breath a little, Alexia tried to force words through the sobs, needing to explain her hysteria and make sure he knew what had happened. It had been his home, too. “Howe… he attacked Highever. Killed… everyone. Mother, Father, Oren…” She couldn’t make it through the casualty list, overwhelmed by a fresh surge of grief that made it impossible to get words out. 

Ali brought a hand up to cradle the back of her head, while rubbing soothing circles on her back with the other. “I know. We heard the news at Ostagar. I thought…” His voice broke off, and his arms tightened around her almost convulsively. “Maker, I thought you were dead, Lexia. I can’t…” She felt his lips brushing against her temple as he whispered. “I can’t believe this.” 

Alexia kept her face buried against his shoulder, unable to look at him. Because he was right; she should have died with her family, standing firm as a Cousland rather than running like a coward. “Mother made me go. She sent me away to find Fergus. I promised to warn him.” 

She wondered if Ali could feel the guilt seeping out of her, all tangled up with her grief and anger. He stiffened and started to pull away, and she resisted, needing the comfort and strength she drew from his proximity. Firmly, he pulled back, and she partially relented, releasing her clinging grip but not letting him go completely. Steeling herself, she looked up at his face, expecting to see judgment or distaste. She wasn’t sure what to make of the near-anguish she found instead. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know where Fergus is. I lost your brother.” 

The way he said it made Fergus sound like a mabari pup who had run away. She stifled the laugh that threatened to emerge at the incongruity of that image. Too many days without sleep, followed by a sudden shock, and she was feeling slightly imbalanced, touches of manic hysteria creeping around the edges of her control. Quickly, she clamped down on it, trying to focus on Ali’s distress. 

“After the battle, I tried to stay with Fergus, to protect him. But there were so many people and monsters, everyone running, screaming, bleeding. I lost track of him, got separated from our troops.” He fixed her with an intent, pleading stare. “I tried to find him, to find anyone. But the Wilds are impossible to navigate. I don’t even know how I ended up here. But I tried to find Fergus.” 

A wave of compassion flooded over her at his words and how broken he sounded. “Oh, Ali, it wasn’t your fault.” She hugged him tightly, pressing her cheek against his and speaking softly into his ear. “No one was prepared for what happened at Ostagar. The battle lines fell apart. All of the soldiers here in Lothering? They lost their units, their commanding officers. Every single one of them. You didn’t do anything wrong, Ali.” She pulled back slightly, squeezing his shoulders and looking him in the eye, forcing a smile she hoped looked reassuring. “Fergus is so well trained. He’s strong. He can take care of himself.” 

Ali frowned, refusing to be persuaded. “You didn’t see him. When he got the news about Highever, Howe’s attack.” He shook his head. “It was like something in him broke, for a little while. If Howe had been in the camp, I think Fergus would have killed him.” 

Alexia smiled grimly. “I’d help.” 

“I would have, too.” He looked almost ashamed by the admission, a sheepish grin flashing across his face before he turned serious again. “Fergus wasn’t himself after that. I mean, who could be? But there was a battle coming, and he needed to be sharp. So I tried to… watch out for him, I guess. I wanted to keep him safe for…” He swallowed and looked away for a second before shrugging. “Someone needed to.” His face twisted into a grimace. “It just should have been someone more competent, apparently.” 

Alexia hated the way he so calmly accepted failure as inevitable and his fault. She wished she could wipe away the resignation and self-recrimination in his eyes. Gently, she brushed her thumb along his cheekbone. “We’ll find Fergus. Just like you found me. We can come up with a plan in the morning.” 

Ali looked slightly dazed for a moment before nodding decisively. “Right, yes, morning.” He took a step back, moving free of her loose grip and heading towards the door, still partially open. “I should, um, go find somewhere to sleep and come back then to plan.” 

Alexia’s breath froze at the thought of being alone again, and before she realized it, she was gripping his hand, so tightly it hurt. “Stay. Please.” She almost recoiled in horror from how desperate and needy she sounded. But the thought of spending another night alone with her nightmares and regrets was worse than showing vulnerability. And this was Ali; she trusted him. 

He looked reluctant, hovering halfway to the door, hand almost on the latch. 

“Ali, please…” Tears started welling up in her eyes again, and it made her angry. She was so, so tired of crying. Frustrated and embarrassed and feeling so horribly weak, she felt them start running down her cheeks and gave up on being strong. “I… I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see them. Mother, Father… Oren’s the worst. He was so little and helpless, and they just ran him through like… like…” 

By the time she ran out of words, sobbing too hard to be coherent, Ali’s arms were around her, and she was crying against his still-damp shoulder. He held her until the weeping subsided, and she tried to speak again. “I don’t want to be alone any more. Can you please just stay here?” 

His voice was soft and familiar, as soothing as the warm arms around her and the hand that stroked her hair. “Of course. For as long as you need me.” 

 

Alexia woke the next morning feeling warm and rested. In her half-asleep state, it took a few minutes for her to remember this sense of comfort came from having shared the bed with someone other than Kazaril. 

In fact, after a thorough sniff-interrogation and enthusiastic, slobbery greeting, the mabari had readily yielded his place, content to sleep on the floor. Alexia hadn’t had any idea her hound was so well disposed towards Alistair; as far as she knew, they’d barely met. 

Clinging to the last traces of sleep, she nestled closer to Ali, feeling him shift in his sleep to wrap an arm around her more tightly. She sighed contentedly, enjoying the solid presence of his chest under her cheek, warm even through his linen tunic. She couldn’t imagine sleeping like this with anyone but Ali, couldn’t think of anyone else she’d trust enough to let her guard down and relax. Closing her eyes, she focused on his slow, even breathing and steady heartbeat, willing them to lull her back to sleep. 

Instead, she remained stubbornly awake, becoming progressively more aware of the man she was cuddled up to. Lifting her head slightly, she studied his face. In his sleep, he looked younger, more like the boy she’d met in the stables than the guardsman she’d seen in passing the past two years. Her eyes kept being drawn to his lips as she remembered what they had felt like on her skin. 

Over the past two years, Alexia had kissed a few of the nobles she was considering marrying, although none of them more than once or twice. No one else had felt anything like her memory of kissing Ali. She’d been starting to suspect that what she remembered with him was distorted, a product of the adrenaline rush from combat and nostalgia for what she’d lost. Because it didn’t seem possible that kissing Ali had made her feel safe and warm and tingly and cherished, when kissing anyone else left her feeling bored and slightly drooled-on. 

She’d been questioning her memories of Ali for months, and now here he was, lying next to her. It would be easy to get her answer, and if she was careful not to wake him, he might not even have to know. Giving in to temptation, Alexia leaned down, closing the few inches between them. 

Ali’s lips felt exactly like she remembered, warm and yielding, and she gasped at the sudden flood of intense memories and feelings that rushed through her at the contact. His lips parted under hers, and then he was kissing her back, as passionate and tender as ever. 

She decided almost immediately that kissing Ali wasn’t how she had remembered; it was better. 

One of her hands found purchase on his shoulder, while the other stroked the hair at the back of his neck. His arms wrapped around her tightly before rolling them so she was under him. His weight pressing down on her made her feel secure rather than confined, and she tried to pull him even closer against her. One of his hands brushed over her ribs before settling at her waist, and she shivered at the feel of his calloused fingers against her skin in the gap where her shirt had pulled up. He moved from her mouth, his lips and tongue finding the sensitive place on her neck that had always made her melt. Alexia gave a soft sighing moan that contained his name. She couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else. 

Ali froze. Suddenly, he was disentangling himself and scrambling away from her. Stunned by the sudden loss of sensation, she opened her eyes, finding him seated on the far edge of the bed, his back to her, hunched over with his head in his hands. 

She could barely make out what he was saying. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” 

Alexia blinked, trying to get her brain up to speed with the sudden change of events. Why would he be apologizing? Did he think she hadn’t wanted this, that he was forcing himself on her? That was ridiculous. She had initiated it and wanted nothing more at the moment than for him to continue. 

Propping herself up on one elbow, she reached over to brush her fingers down his spine, playful and inviting. “Ali, you are not allowed to apologize for the best kiss I’ve ever had.” 

He groaned, muffled into his hands. “Which of course I wasn’t awake enough to remember.” 

Grinning, she sat up further, reaching to give his arm a gentle tug. “Come back over here and I’ll show you what you missed.” 

He shifted towards her enough that she could see his face. Instead of the playful anticipation she’d been expecting, he wore a look of anguish so intense her breath caught in her throat. Silently, he gazed at her for a long moment, eyes roaming and taking her in. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His tone was almost reverential before he turned his head away with a pained expression. “And I need to stop torturing myself.” 

Alexia stared at him in bewildered shock, having no idea how to react to either the compliment or the hurt. 

“Lexia, we can’t. This…” Ali sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “This – us – is every bit as impossible as it was before. Nothing’s changed.” 

Alexia sat up, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Reality came crashing back down on her, the horror of the past few weeks overwhelming in its renewed intensity. She suddenly felt vulnerable, wearing only the thin linen garments that she’d slept in, and pulled the rough hostel sheet up like armor. “How can you say that? Everything’s changed! I don’t have a home or a family. Ali, everyone else I love is dead! How can you tell me nothing’s changed?” She bit the inside of her lip, trying to cling to her anger, irrational as it was, rather than giving in to another bout of weeping. 

Ali stretched his hand towards her as if to comfort her, but then his face twisted and he pulled it back. “But I still can’t have a future with you, and – Maker help me – I’m too selfish to settle for anything less.” 

He stood from the side of the bed and began shrugging into the casual armor he’d discarded before sleeping the previous night. A sudden panic jolted through her at the sight, and she couldn’t hold back the tears that had been prickling at her eyes. 

“Ali, I’m sorry. I promise I won’t do it again. Please, don’t leave.” She sounded like a terrified little girl, and she hated it, but she couldn’t stop herself from begging. Now that she’d let her mask down for him, she didn’t know how to put it back on. 

“No. Oh, no, Lexia, don’t…” He shook his head, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “I’m just going to talk to the inkeep about getting a separate room if we’re still here tonight. Since, well, it turns out that sharing a bed isn’t such a good idea.” He blushed slightly, looking away as he finished fastening the buckles on his armor. 

By the time it was settled into place, he was able to look back at her with a grin. “I’m coming right back. And you’d better be geared up by the time I do. I saw a practice yard out back, and I want to see what you can do with something that small.” He gestured at the looted sword propped against the wall by her worn leathers, fixing her with a mock-stern look before leaving the room. 

As the door closed behind him, Alexia ran a hand through her disheveled hair, coming loose from the braid she’d slept in, and tried to regain her composure. Stretching, she got out of bed, ruffling Kaz’s short fur in response to his woofed morning greeting. As she picked up her armor to start getting dressed, she decided Ali was right; sparring was a good idea. Maybe it would put them back on a familiar footing, and she could definitely use something that felt normal.


	6. Mortschlag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mortschlag – death blow or murder-stroke

Alexia had just finished tying her hair off in a new, tighter braid when the door slammed open. She turned, prepared to tease Ali about needing to leave the ambushes for the practice yard, when the look of wide-eyed panic on his face froze her words in her throat. Kazaril was instantly on alert, staring intently past him in search of the threat. 

“Grab whatever you can quickly. We have to go.” Alistair was out of breath, panting like he’d been running. 

“What’s wrong?” Feeling her pulse accelerate in response to his fear, Alexia reached for the pack of meager supplies she’d bartered for and purchased on her way to Lothering, trying to stuff in the few things she’d pulled out during her stay at the inn. 

Apparently her fumbling hands weren’t moving quickly enough, because Alistair grabbed the last few items from her and shoved them roughly into the bag. He grabbed her arm and tugged her towards the door, throwing the pack over one shoulder. “Lothering’s being overrun. We need to get out of here.” 

Staggering along after him, Alexia tried to wrap her head around the sudden shift. She had pulled her sword out to check it before sparring and was still trying to it back into the second-hand scabbard that wasn’t quite the right size and shape. 

“Keep that out. You’ll need it.” 

As they clattered down the stairs to the inn’s lower level, moving awkwardly because Alistair was still half-dragging her by a grip on her arm, Alexia started to get past her initial confusion and get scared and, as a result, angry. She wrenched her arm away, nearly unbalancing them both in the process. “What in the void is going on here? You can’t just pull me out of my room and tow me around without some kind of explanation.” 

The front door crashed open as a terrified man dashed into the inn, and Alexia caught a glimpse of the chaos out in the street. Her angry tirade was choked off by a wave of pure, unadulterated fear. “Ali, are those…?” 

“Darkspawn.” He answered grimly, readying his sword and never taking his eye off the threat outside the door. “The horde’s here, and Lothering doesn’t stand a chance.” 

Ignoring the newcomer huddling in fear behind a table, Alistair stalked out into the street, Kaz at his side, hackles raised and growling menacingly. Alexia grappled with the shock that threatened to paralyze her, forcing her legs to move as she ran haltingly after them. 

The street was absolute chaos. There were darkspawn everywhere she looked, their distorted human forms like something out of a nightmare, dressed in ragged armor and brandishing weapons dripping blood. Scattered bodies littered the ground already, almost all of them people rather than monsters. Most of the townsfolk were screaming and fleeing for the supposed safety of their homes or other larger buildings, although Alexia was somewhat surprised to see the grizzled bartender wading into the melee with a stout oak mace. The soldiers still in town appeared more organized, forming up defensive lines around strategic positions, typically the buildings that could be most easily fortified. Alexia expected Alistair to join them, but instead he ran into the middle of the street, plunging straight into the worst of the mayhem. Desperate not to be left behind, she followed him into the thick of it. 

Almost immediately, she came face to face with her first darkspawn. It appeared almost human but horribly, disturbingly not. Its corpse-like face was distorted into a snarling grin and smeared with blood. It looked corrupt, diseased, its skin scabrous and mottled with scar tissue. Alexia froze in horror. 

Then it swung a sword at her, and her reflexes kicked in, bringing her own blade up to intercept. Alexia was back on familiar ground: regardless of who – or what – was holding it, she knew how to deal with a weapon coming at her. 

Accustomed to the easy prey of helpless villagers, the darkspawn snarled in surprise as Alexia parried its attack. It roared with fury and brought its blade around for another pass. She blocked this one as well, but the impact jarred her arm all the way up to the shoulder, and she staggered. Not for the first time, she cursed the sword she’d looted and wished its grip had space for a second hand. Alexia knew she couldn’t remain on the defensive for long against an opponent with this much power and weight advantage. As the creature moved in for a third attack, she stepped out of range instead of blocking, bringing her own sword in under its guard. The darkspawn was sloppy, leaving such a big opening, and she buried her blade deep into its side, wrenching it back out with a gush of thick, dark blood. Gagging at the stench, Alexia darted away from the creature as it staggered to its knees and collapsed to the ground in the middle of the street, its foul, viscous blood soaking into the dirt. 

Alexia suddenly became aware of her surroundings again, people running and screaming, their sounds of terror and pain interspersed with the clash of weapons and armor. During the fight, her perception had narrowed to block out everything but her opponent. She resolved not to be so short-sighted in the future. That level of focus was useful in a duel, but it could get a person killed in a skirmish with multiple enemies present. It was only blind luck that none of the other darkspawn had decided to gang up on her, and Alexia didn’t believe in trusting her life to something as fickle as luck. 

Or maybe it wasn’t entirely luck that had protected her after all. One of the shorter darkspawn lay in a mangled heap a few feet away, and a quick glance at its injuries showed her the distinctive signs of mabari savaging. “Good boy, Kaz.” She doubted the hound could hear her mutter over the general chaos, but she made a mental note to give him an especially juicy bone once they got out of this mess and she found a butcher shop somewhere that wasn’t being overrun by darkspawn. 

She spotted Alistair several yards down the road, finishing off a darkspawn with a savage cut to its neck. He shoved the body away as a gout of dark blood spewed from the wound, then turned to look for her his eyes wide and darting. Alexia gave him a quick wave to show she was fine and started towards a cluster of soldiers fighting a knot of darkspawn that were trying to break through their defensive position. 

“Come on!” Alistair’s bellow carried over the noise, and she glanced up, startled, to see him beckoning as he moved further down the street. She gestured at the soldiers, and he shook his head, looking frustrated. “Alexia, now!” 

She ran to catch up with him, Kaz falling in at her side. “But what about all those people?” 

He shook his head grimly. “We can’t save them; all we can do is die with them. And I won’t lose you again, not like this.” He started moving again, cutting a path down the street, like his pronouncement had ended the discussion. 

Alexia gaped at him in disbelief, following after and attempting to make her case. "You aren’t even going to try?” 

“This is just the front edge of the horde. You didn’t see them at Ostagar. They’ll sweep over Lothering like the tide. Except a lot more disgusting and violent, with hurlocks and genlocks instead of water. We have to get to the Imperial Highway before they cut it off.” He frowned. “Most of the other veterans agreed with me. The ones who are smart have already gone.” 

They ran as he talked, pausing to cut down darkspawn that came into their path. Despite his callous words, Alistair stopped several times to take a stab at the unprotected back of a creature attacking one of the townsfolk or soldiers. Looking around, Alexia saw he was right about the veterans. The further they got from the center of town, the more the street was filled with people in armor fighting in an organized evacuation, rather than panicking villagers running for perceived safety. 

There were also more darkspawn as they went, slowing their progress towards the highway. But the repeated exposure served to dull Alexia’s horror at the monstrous creatures. She quit focusing on their scabrous, cadaverous faces and began simply seeing them as enemies to kill, foes with weaknesses to assess. After taking down her tenth darkspawn, if she was keeping count accurately, Alexia was starting to feel pretty confident about her skills in actual combat, not just a sparring ring. 

“This isn’t so bad.” She grinned as they charged the next group. 

Alistair’s response was clipped and abrupt as he shoved an incoming sword aside with his shield. “The first rule of killing darkspawn is to keep your mouth shut.” 

Alexia nearly failed to deflect the first attack aimed at her as she stopped herself from staring at him in disbelief. Using the surge of anger to her advantage, she hacked her blade into the darkspawn’s throat in a blow that would have decapitated it if she’d been using a real sword. As the monster fell to the ground, spewing dark ichor from the gaping wound, she rounded on Ali. “How could you talk to me like that? Just because you’ve been trained as a real soldier and I haven’t… First you all but drag me out of the inn, and now I’m not even allowed to speak? I’m not some helpless, useless, spoiled noble brat, and I can’t believe you’d treat me like one.” 

Alistair didn’t respond, focused on the darkspawn he was facing off against. It was better armored than most, and he seemed to be having difficulty finding an opening. She wasn’t even sure if he’d heard her. His jaw was clenched, lips pressed together in a tight line, and a muscle in his cheek twitching the way it did when he was particularly annoyed and grinding his teeth. She was about to circle behind the darkspawn to give him a hand when he finally managed to slip his sword through a gap in its armor. 

He kicked the body away as it fell, looked around to make sure there weren’t any others nearby, and then turned to her. He had the nerve to burst into sudden laughter, and she realized that was the reaction he’d been holding back while fighting. 

Just as her temper spiked again, he shook his head, looking contrite as he tried to get his mirth under control. “No, Lexia. I meant that literally.” 

She raised an eyebrow and waited, not terribly patiently, for an explanation. 

“You need to keep your mouth closed.” He startled her by reaching up to wipe his thumb across her cheek, bringing it away dark with foul blood she hadn’t realized was there. The stench was so pervasive at this point that she hadn’t even noticed the odor of it. “Their blood carries a contagion. Don’t let it get in your mouth, eyes, or any open cuts.” 

“Oh…” She felt utterly stupid for yelling at him when he’d only been trying to help her stay safe. Her cheek was tingling where he’s brushed his thumb across it, so he must have gotten the blood off her just in time. “Ali, I’m sorry. I guess I kind of overreacted.” 

“Just be more careful from here on out.” He smiled, warm and amused. “About the darkspawn blood. Although I’d prefer if you also avoid yelling at me too much.” 

Alexia smirked, followed by a shudder as she realized how much of the corrupted black blood had spattered onto her leathers and gear. “These things really did not need to find a way to be even more repulsive. Yet another reason to want a greatsword: killing them from further away.” A sudden thought struck her, and she turned sternly to the mabari watching her flank. “Kaz, no biting them.” 

The hound whined, but Alexia remained firm. “I don’t want you catching whatever these things have. Headbutt them, knock them over, stomp on their faces for all I care. But no biting.” 

He looked disappointed but bowed his head in brief submission to acknowledge her order. Then his ears flattened and a growl rumbled in his throat as more darkspawn came their way. Alexia brought up her pitiful excuse for a sword and prepared to meet their charge, her lips pressed firmly together. 

 

After that, everything became a nightmare of running and battling horrific monsters that spewed foul, corrupted blood when they died. Alexia lost all sense of time and distance, only knowing that she, Ali, and Kaz were still alive and moving towards the Imperial Highway. Other soldiers joined forces with them periodically, but they were always swept away again by the pressures of the darkspawn horde that just kept coming. She was starting to wonder if they’d left it too late and been cut off from the road already. Ultimately, it didn’t matter; all she could do was continue fighting and hope. 

There were occasional moments of brief respite from the constant, draining combat, times when the only darkspawn in sight were corpses. The only one that stood out in Alexia’s memory happened in a desolate area on the outskirts of Lothering, the seared ground broken by large angular rocks and stained with blood both black and red. When they determined the area was temporarily free of threats, Kaz flopped into a patch of unbloodied dirt, tongue lolling from his mouth as he panted. Alexia leaned on a boulder, head tilted back as she gasped for air. Alistair moved out of her line of sight, and she didn’t have the energy to turn her head and see what he was doing. For the next several minutes, she did absolutely nothing besides breathing and being grateful to be both alive and holding still. 

“Hey, I think you may get your wish.” 

She had no idea what Alistair was talking about, and he sounded nearly as groggy as she felt, numb from exhaustion and drunk on the after-effects of adrenaline. Alexia tried to make a sound of mild inquiry, but she had no idea if it carried far enough. 

Either he heard her or just carried on anyway – knowing Ali, she thought both were entirely likely. “I found that greatsword you were looking for.” 

That was perplexing enough to justify moving. She pried herself off the rock and back upright to see what he was talking about. “You stumbled across a blacksmith out here in the middle of nowhere?” 

“Not exactly.” His subdued tone should have tipped her off that this wasn’t something to joke about, but she still wasn’t expecting what she found. Alistair was standing next to a body. A human body, not a darkspawn corpse. Alexia knelt down to take a closer look. 

The dark-haired young man – and he was young, younger than her if she had to guess – had obviously taken a beating, spattered in his own blood and with his torso slightly crushed. Alexia did not want to run into whatever had done this to him. Despite the damage, his body had been carefully arranged to appear at rest, with his hands placed on the hilt of his greatsword. He was armed but dressed in a padded tunic and mantle rather than proper armor. He didn’t look like a soldier, just a farm boy fleeing his home. Alexia fought back a sudden wave of grief, remembering the bodies of her loved ones, left where they fell because there wasn’t time to do anything, not even say goodbye. 

She sat back on her heels, shaking her head and trying to blink away the tears. “I can’t take his sword; it was left to protect him. He wasn’t out here alone. Someone loved him.” 

Alistair crouched down next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Yes, they did. But they left his body behind because they couldn’t help him by staying to die with him. They chose to survive. I don’t think they’d blame you for making the same choice.” 

_But what if I’m tired of being the one to survive?_ She didn’t say the words aloud. They would only scare Ali. Besides, she wasn’t actually ready to give up and die, if for no other reason than it would dishonor her mother’s sacrifice and last wishes. But it was hard to keep going on when she felt so Maker-damned selfish for being alive when so many other people – good, innocent people – were dead in her wake. 

“Lexia, you all right?” Alistair’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and she realized she was shaking. 

But that gave her the reminder she needed, the motivation to keep going and make use of whatever was at hand. If she didn’t fight her absolute hardest to survive, she was abandoning Ali to get through this alone, and that would be even more selfish. The boy with the sword would probably understand. Hadn’t he died protecting whoever had loved him enough to care for him after death?

She covered Ali’s hand with her own and turned to smile at him, the expression weak but sincere. He was closer than she realized, and the proximity both startled and comforted her. “I’ll be fine. And thank you.” 

His look of concern was replaced by an answering smile of relief. “Of course. Any time. For what?” 

She chuckled. “Being here. Being you.” She squeezed his hand before letting go. 

“I’m pretty sure I can keep doing that. You may regret wanting me to.” He grinned as he stood up before turning serious as reality settled back in. “So are you going to use the sword?” 

She nodded. “You were right; I should.” 

Alexia hesitated for a moment, looking down at the greatsword and the man holding it. “I’m sorry,” she said to him, not because she believed the tales of a spirit lingering near an unburned body but because the words needed to be said. “You deserved better than this. I promise I’ll use your sword against the darkspawn that killed you. I don’t know if that gives you any comfort, but I hope you’d understand.” She gently lifted his hands from the weapon’s hilt and lifted it, testing the almost-familiar weight. “Thank you.” 

Standing, she turned back to Alistair, who was watching her silently, his face unreadable. “Ready?” 

She nodded, hefting the sword and gaining confidence from having it in her grip. “We need to keep moving.” Whistling for Kaz to join them, she fell in at Alistair’s side as they pressed on towards the highway and survival.


	7. Alber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alber – “fool’s guard”, so named because only a fool stays on the defensive, relinquishing the initiative

Hours later, as the sun was finally going down at the end of what felt like the longest day of Alexia’s life, the three of them were trudging along the Imperial Highway, headed north and debating whether they should stop for the night. Kazaril seemed the least tired, but as Alistair sternly reminded him, that was an unfair comparison since warhounds didn’t have to carry armor. Alexia thought the fact that Ali was having a one-sided argument with her oblivious mabari – and quite possibly losing – was sufficient proof that he needed to sleep. 

When they had finally staggered onto the Highway and found it clear of darkspawn, Alexia hadn’t quite believed it. It hadn’t really sunk in that they’d made it – that they were safe – until she’d heard Ali’s whoop of joy. He had picked her up in a hug and swung her around, nearly skewering himself on the greatsword she still had drawn. The elation in his eyes was what had finally gotten through her haze of exhaustion and convinced her that things were going to be all right now. She’d thought for a moment he was going to kiss her, and her pulse leapt faster than when she’d been running. But the moment had passed, and he’d set her down with a bashful, apologetic smile and announced, rather lamely and unnecessarily, that they’d reached the Imperial Highway. 

Now, as the light faded, he was walking woodenly, doggedly putting one foot in front of the other and insisting that they needed to keep going, to put more space between themselves and the darkspawn horde. All of the darkspawn they’d seen since reaching the Highway were corpses, and even those had been few and far between. And from the way Alistair looked, Alexia was afraid he was going to collapse any minute, and after everything they’d been through today – all of the hours of running and fighting – she doubted she had the energy to carry him more than a few steps. Stopping for a few hours at a deliberately chosen site off the road made a lot more sense than collapsing on it. The only challenge was convincing him of that. 

Reason wasn’t working; he simply responded to all of her sensible arguments with a shrug and kept walking. So it was clearly time to try something else. Alexia drew Kazaril’s attention with a quick, high whistle, then made a sharp hand gesture. The hound appeared confused, but he complied, darting quickly into Alistair’s path. As expected, Alistair failed to react to the sudden movement, walking straight into the dog and losing his balance, stumbling gracelessly to land on the road surface. The mabari bounded away, stubby tail wagging as he decided this had been a joke. 

Alexia offered Alistair a hand up, but he refused to take it, glaring at her suspiciously as he sat in the middle of the road. She sighed. “Ali, if you can trip over my dog, you’re in no shape to deal with any darkspawn that show up. And neither am I. We’re as safe as we’re going to be any time soon. We need to rest. Please?” 

He seemed to deflate. “Fine, you win. But only because I’m pretty sure I can’t stand up without your help. Which I guess kind of proves you’re right.” 

She smiled as he took her extended hand. “Of course I’m right.” Alexia dragged him to his feet and then kept hold of his hand as she started walking again, towing him along. “Now let’s find somewhere defensible and close.” She yawned, the fatigue setting in now that she knew she’d get to indulge it. “Mostly close.” 

 

Alexia sat on a hillside overlooking the Imperial Highway, cross-legged with her back to a tree, keeping watch for any traffic on the road below or movement in the woods around her. So far, the night had been remarkably peaceful. She’d persuaded Ali to let her take first shift – “You’re exhausted. Let me take care of you for once.” – and he’d fallen asleep almost immediately. Currently, he lay with his head pillowed on her thigh, balancing out Kazaril curled up against her other side. Alexia tried to resist the insidious thought that, with Fergus lost somewhere in the Korcari Wilds, everything in the world that she had left to love was sleeping on this hillside. Blinking back the tears, she stared up at the distant, crystalline stars, trying to feel as detached and remote as they appeared. 

As the night wore on without any sign of movement on the road, she did her best to focus on what she had rather than what she’d lost. She patted Kaz’s side and rubbed his ears, smiling at the little doggy sighs he made in his sleep. She studied Ali’s face in the silvery moonlight, comparing it to her memories, trying to find the differences between the man he was now and the boy she’d known. Sometimes it seemed like nothing had changed, that he was still her best friend and partner, but then something would happen, and she could feel the weight of the past two years settle between them, a distance she didn’t know how to fully bridge. Lightly, she traced her fingertips over his cheek and brow, feeling him turn into her touch even more than Kaz had. The connection was still there, even if neither of them had a word for it. 

Later, when it was Ali’s turn to keep watch, she drifted off to sleep lulled by the feeling of him gently stroking her hair. 

 

It wasn’t until Alexia woke up the next morning that she realized they hadn’t eaten at all the previous day. Her travel provisions had been almost depleted by the time she’d reached Lothering, and she hadn’t had time to restock before their unplanned departure. 

When she suggested foraging in the woods before setting out for the day, Alistair’s refusal was immediate and surprisingly firm. 

The hunger gnawing at her empty stomach convinced her to persist in the face of such serious resistance. “It won’t take that long, and we have a good head start. We don’t even know that they’re coming this way yet.” She put her hands on her hips, determined to make him be reasonable. “It’s better to spend some time now to find food rather than being weakened with hunger later when we run into trouble.” 

Maddeningly, he still shook his head, and she ignored the irrational impulse to run a finger over the tight muscles of his clenched jaw. “It’s not that. Or it’s not _just_ that. Do you know why they call a darkspawn invasion a Blight? Because they ruin the land they pass over, poison it somehow and make it unable to support life. Everything on it becomes infected with their contagion.” 

“We’ve only seen a handful of darkspawn in this area, and they weren’t even that close. That’s enough to poison all the edible plant life?” She stared at him in disbelief. 

Alistair shrugged. “I have no idea if it is or not. Do I look like a Grey Warden? But I’m not taking the risk. I saw blight sickness at Ostagar, and I’d rather starve.” He shouldered the pack of their meager possessions and set off down the hill towards the road, leaving Alexia with little choice but to follow and hope that her remaining stock of jerky and hardtack was bigger than she’d remembered, especially now that it had to feed two. 

 

They saw no more darkspawn that day, so by evening Alistair let hunger win out. They’d made camp early, set up the small tent Alexia had purchased from the dwarven merchant, and even built a fire to cook the rabbits that Kazaril caught. The warhound had accepted praise for his hunting skills, eaten his share raw, and then curled up nose-to-tail by the fire and begun snoring. Alexia frequently envied the simplicity of the mabari world view; a life where a full belly and a warm place to sleep were all she needed to be happy didn’t sound that bad some days. 

Unlike Kaz, the two humans waited to eat until the rabbits were roasted. Or at least charred into a state that was close enough to be deemed edible. It turned out that neither Alexia nor Alistair was particularly skilled at cooking. Fortunately, they were both hungry enough not to care. 

After the meal – such as it was – was finished, Alistair offered to take first watch. “Since you did last night, I figure it’s my turn.” 

“Actually, I think it’s Kazaril’s turn.” Alexia grinned down at the mabari sprawled by her side; he always started out sleeping curled up tidily and spread out as he slept. “He got a full night’s sleep last night and a nap now on top of it. Besides, what’s the use of having a guard dog if he doesn’t guard anything?” She nudged him with her toe. “Get up, lazybones. I know you’re listening.” 

Kazaril’s ears and closed eyes remained perfectly still, but his tail stump twitched in a tiny, playful wag. 

“That’s what I thought.” She grinned and looked back to Alistair. “All settled. Kaz watches tonight and we both get to sleep.” 

Alistair smirked and watched as she stood up to begin laying out their blankets inside the tent. “Wait, you’re serious?” 

She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you trust Kaz to keep us safe?” 

He looked at the warhound, who was sitting up now, alert and regarding him with a curiously cocked head. 

“What? Of course I do.” Alexia suspected she was meant to hear the muttering that followed. “Like I’d say no to that face. Or those teeth.” 

Kazaril dropped his jaw in a lolling grin and wagged his stubby tail. Apparently her hound shared Ali’s sense of humor. Alexia couldn’t decide if that said more about Kaz, Ali, or her taste in friends that she’d picked both of them. 

Regardless, she was too tired to think about it – or anything else – tonight. Having finished arranging the blankets into a reasonable attempt at pallets, she climbed into the tent, leaving her greatsword in convenient reach just outside. Alexia poked her head back out of the front flap. “Take off the most poke-y parts of your armor and get in here.” Definitely time to sleep if she was resorting to words like “poke-y”. 

Surprisingly, Ali let it pass. He seemed to be preoccupied staring skeptically at the tent. “Are you sure we’re both going to fit in there?”   
She shrugged. “The dwarf said it would hold two people.” 

“Two human-sized people or dwarf-sized people?” 

Alexia rolled her eyes. “He didn’t say, and I’m not planning to track him down to ask now. I’m going to bed. If you want to keep arguing with me, you can do it from in here.” She let the tent flap drop shut and stretched out on one of the two make-shift pallets, feeling her weary muscles and joints finally relax after two days of exertion and half a night sleeping on bare ground. 

She heard the sound of movement outside the tent, presumably Ali removing his armor, followed by a wry remark. “Yes, well, I’m glad _someone_ is finding this amusing.” Kazaril’s answering bark did, in fact, sound amused. 

When Ali finally crawled into the tent, he was carrying his sheathed sword. Even as sleepy as she was, Alexia couldn’t let that go without comment. “The tent’s too small, so you’re coming to bed armed?” 

“As it so happens, yes.” 

“You think you’ll need to fight me for your half?” She chuckled sleepily. 

“No, there was this thing I read somewhere.” He sounded a little uncomfortable, like he was nervous but trying to brazen past it. “A knight was traveling unchaperoned with a beautiful noblewoman, so he put his sword in the bed between them. I think it was supposed to be a symbol of his honor or something, but I figured it would also be pretty uncomfortable to roll over onto.” 

Alexia made a sleepy noise of amused agreement. If Ali would feel better sharing a tent with her and a sword, she wasn’t going to object. The idea sounded familiar, like something she’d read, too. After a minute, she remembered it had been in The Crystal Rose, her favorite book when she was younger. She’d spent hours curled up in the biggest chair in the keep’s library with that book, imagining having adventures like the ones in its pages. Wait, Ali had read that, too? 

“I knew it!” Alexia sat up and pointed an accusing finger at him. Her sudden outburst startled him, and he looked slightly guilty. Good, he should. “I knew someone was dog-earing the pages and moving my bookmark. Fergus said no one else would want to read my silly adventure story, but I knew I wasn’t imagining it.” She felt strangely vindicated at solving the mystery after all these years. 

“I didn’t mean to move your bookmark.” Ali sounded suddenly defensive. “It kept falling out while I was reading. I tried to put it back.” 

“You always put it back in the same place.” Alexia realized they’d begun bickering like they had as children. It was utterly ridiculous, but also strangely comforting. 

“That was where the book fell open.” 

She grinned. “Because it was the best part, so it had been read more.” 

He thought for a minute. “The fight at the end with the high dragon?” 

Alexia mumbled agreement. Every time her bookmark was moved, she found it somewhere in the final chapter, where Ser Reegar killed the high dragon and won a kiss from Princess Elena. It was definitely the best part, the scene the whole story had been leading up to. It seemed a little silly now, but as a girl she had thought that was the most wonderful story ever written. Smiling, Alexia lay back down on the blanket. “I loved that book.” 

“So did I. That’s why I thought of it.” Ali stretched out on his own side of the tent, setting the sword carefully between them. 

She chuckled curling her arms up to serve as a pillow. “The sword can stay, but don’t expect me to be a silly maiden.” 

Alistair was silent for a minute before awkwardly clearing his throat. “That’s, um, not really any of my business.” 

As soon as she figured out what he meant, Alexia felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Flames, had he taken that literally? “I didn’t mean…” She was glad it was dark inside the tent so he couldn’t see how badly she was blushing as she tried to think of a way to clear up the misunderstanding without making it worse. “Ali, I’ve done more with you than I’ve ever wanted to with anyone else.” 

He made a strangled noise that she couldn’t decipher without seeing his expression. Maybe that hadn’t been the best approach because now her traitorous, half-asleep mind was replaying some of those moments, culminating with the other morning in Lothering. She didn’t need to be thinking about the things she’d done with him – the things she wanted – when she ought to be sleeping and he’d made it perfectly clear he wasn’t interested in even touching her. 

Rather than stretching the awkwardness out any further, she tried to move past it. “I meant that I refuse to be some helpless little damsel you need to rescue.” 

“I’ve never expected you to be helpless, Lexia.” She could hear warmth and pride in his voice. “Remember who taught you how to fight.” 

 

Alexia jolted awake in the middle of the night, stifling the scream that tried to tear its way out of her throat. She sat up, heart racing and gasping for air. The tent suddenly felt confining, the walls too close, trapping her in. She shuddered, trying to claw her way back to reality as she fought to escape the images filling her mind, scar-faced darkspawn in Howe livery standing over the bloody bodies of her family. 

Next to her, Ali started thrashing in his sleep and mumbling incoherently, caught in nightmares of his own. It was his pained whimpers that brought her to full awareness of her surroundings. She’d never heard him sound so lost and scared, and her heart ached for him. Fumbling in the dim light, she leaned down to gently shake him awake. 

His eyes shot open and focused on her face. “Lexia?” 

“I’m here. It’s okay.” She squeezed his arm comfortingly and was surprised when he caught her in a tight hug, pressing his face against her hair. 

His breath was ragged, and she could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He might be awake, but part of him was still caught in whatever nightmare he’d been having. She wriggled an arm free from his clutching embrace and stroked his hair and neck, murmuring soft reassurances until he calmed and loosened his grip. 

“Sorry…” Ali sounded slightly abashed. “I was, um, having a nightmare.” 

“I guessed that.” She brushed her fingers soothingly over his temple. 

“I didn’t mean to nearly squash you.” 

Alexia chuckled, pulling away reluctantly. “It’s fine, Ali. But if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to stop lying on your sword now. It’s rather uncomfortable.” 

“See? It works.” Even in the near-darkness, she could picture the weak grin on his face. 

Smiling, Alexia lay back down on her blankets, reaching out in the dark to take his hand. “Are you all right?” 

“Better now.” He twined his fingers with hers, and Alexia relaxed, resting her head on her other arm. 

Ali didn’t seem to be ready to fall back asleep, so maybe he wanted to talk about it. “Ostagar?” 

“Highever.” 

She frowned, confused. “But you weren’t even there. You’d already left with Fergus.” 

“That doesn’t stop me from imagining it. Or from picturing what could have happened.” He paused for a moment, his breath catching before it evened out again. His grip on her hand was almost painful for a second. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

“You didn’t.” Alexia pressed her lips together, not sure why it was hard to admit she was having nightmares when she’d just held him after his. “I’m… not sleeping so well either.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was laced with concern. 

She didn’t really, but he’d shared his fears. It was only fair. She tried to make light of it. “It turns out that what happened at… at Highever… It’s even worse if you picture Howe hiring darkspawn.” 

She felt him shiver, and his levity was definitely forced. “You’re right. That manages to make it even more horrifying.” 

“It does. And since I’d like to be able to sleep again at some point in my life, can we talk about something else?” 

“Sorry.” He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles in apology, and she let the repetitive soothing motion lull her closer to sleep. 

She had almost dropped off when Ali spoke again, having apparently taken her request for different conversation seriously. “Why didn’t you get married? You had plenty of men interested.” 

Alexia was too sleepy to find the question odd. “Because I didn’t particularly want to marry any of them. And since I wasn’t the heir, I could get away with it.” She frowned. “I guess that’s another thing that’s changed. Once we find Fergus and get things sorted out, it’s time for me to stop putting it off and choose a husband.” She sighed and began idly sorting through the candidates. “The Wulff brothers are married and engaged, respectively, so not them. I knew they weren’t serious. Never Vaughan. Alfstanna’s brother took his templar vows, so not him. Not Nate, not now. Not after his father…” 

Half-asleep as she was, the sudden surge of grief snuck up on her, and she wasn’t prepared to control it, to keep the tears at bay. She clenched her eyes shut and held her breath, but it wasn’t enough. As soon as her shoulders shook with the first audible sob, Ali’s arm was around her, and he was babbling apologies. 

She let him hold her until she could get herself back under control, then pushed him away gently, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” She shrugged, running out of words. 

“No, Lexia, _I’m_ sorry.” He’d kept hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Maker’s breath, I’m useless! I can’t even distract you without making you cry.” 

She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see it in the darkness. “You’re not useless, Ali; you’re wonderful. You are the only thing that’s made me smile since… since I left home.” _And the one night I’ve spent without nightmares was in your arms._

But she couldn’t tell him that. The sword in the middle of the tent was a pretty clear sign he wasn’t comfortable sleeping next to her, and she didn’t want him to feel guilty about refusing her. Instead, she kept hold of his hand as she went back to sleep, hoping that might be enough to keep the nightmares at bay.


	8. Botta de Tempo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> botta de tempo – “attack-in-time”, countering or attacking when the opponent is distracted and/or unprepared

As they ate a quick breakfast the next morning – the charred rabbit definitely wasn’t improved by being eaten cold, so there was no reason to linger over it – Alexia decided it was time for a better plan than what they’d been doing so far, which was pretty much “get as far away from the darkspawn as possible”. That had merit, but it could use some fleshing out. 

“Before we get back on the road today, we need to decide on ‘to’ instead of just ‘from’.” 

Alistair made a questioning noise around the mouthful of rabbit he was trying to choke down. Even Kazaril tilted his head at her, looking perplexed. 

Scrubbing a hand over her face to wake herself up and sound more coherent, Alexia tried again. “We haven’t seen any serious darkspawn presence since we got onto the highway. We don’t need to keep fleeing blindly; it’s time to decide where we’re actually going.” 

Alistair swallowed his mouthful. “I hadn’t gotten that far.” He shrugged. “Fleeing was working.” 

Alexia smirked. “We’ve got two goals: find Fergus and get Rendon Howe out of our home. Both of those are too big for just the two of us.” Kazaril barked. “Three of us. Sorry.” She scritched him behind the ears in apology. “Regardless, we need help. And we need to know who we can trust. You said the Amaranthine troops never made it to Ostagar?” 

“I never saw them there.” Alistair shrugged again. “The rumor after the battle was that they’d gone to Denerim to rendezvous with the main army following the general retreat.” 

“Which says to me Howe knew there wasn’t ever going to be a battle.” She frowned. “Rendon’s in bed with Loghain.” 

Alistair made a noise of disgust, and Alexia rolled her eyes and backhanded him in the chest. “I meant figuratively. That is so not an image I need.” 

“Neither did I!” 

Alexia bit the inside of her lip to avoid smirking; he didn’t need any encouragement. “It makes sense, though. Rendon’s smart. He’s a scheming, dishonest, traitorous little viper, but he’s not stupid. He’s always wanted Highever, but he wouldn’t have moved against my father unless he thought someone powerful would shield him from the consequences. If we want justice for Highever, we can’t trust anyone else who might be allied with Loghain.” 

She tapped a finger on her sword hilt as she thought through the arls with influence, debating who was the least risk. Alistair offered no opinion, apparently content to let her do the planning now that they were out of immediate danger. 

“Redcliffe. We go to Eamon.” Alexia walked through her logic, hoping Alistair would spot any flaws. “He’s a politician. That man plays the game like an Orlesian, and he’s been doing it longer than just about anyone else in Ferelden. People owe him favors, and he knows how to make things happen. If we’re going up against Teyrn Loghain, we need someone like that on our side.” 

“If he’s such a politician, wouldn’t he have already cut a deal with Loghain?” 

Alexia shook her head. “The king was his nephew. He’d never condone any plan that led to Cailan’s death. He’s not with Loghain, which means he’s our best chance for a strong ally.” 

Alistair didn’t protest or question, so she took his silence for assent. “There’s just one problem with going to Redcliffe.” She paused, knowing he wasn’t going to like this. “We’re headed the wrong way.” 

Alistair didn’t disappoint her. “No. Away from the darkspawn horde is the right way to be going.” 

She sighed. “Redcliffe is along the West Road. We have to go back south unless we intend to go around the entirety of Lake Calenhad.” She cut him off with a glare as soon as he opened his mouth. “Which we don’t.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, tangling in the strands coming loose from their braid. “We don’t have to go back down the Highway all the way. Just far enough to find the spur road that cuts across to the ferry.” 

“But you do want to go back south. Towards the darkspawn.” Alistair had gotten that stubborn, sarcastic tone she had learned to dread, and Alexia braced herself to not like whatever he was about to say next. “Why do I bother saving your life if you’re going to run right back into danger the first chance you get?” 

He had saved her life? Like she had nothing to do with it? Alexia gritted her teeth but failed to contain her angry response. “I told you, Ali, that I have no intention of being a helpless little girl you need to protect. Go find someone else to be your Princess Elena.” She crossed her arms. “Besides, how safe do you think I’ll be once Howe finds out I survived? Mother was worried about him coming after Fergus as a threat to his claim to Highever. Do you think he’ll do any less to me?” 

She wasn’t prepared for the dark look that suddenly crossed Ali’s face, but at least it didn’t seem to be directed at her. He stood abruptly and began packing away the camp, folding the tent and blankets roughly. Startled by the sudden lack of opposition, Alexia joined him, noticing that his hands were shaking and his jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like it hurt. 

He noticed her staring. “If we’re going, we should go as soon as possible, while we know the road’s still open.” 

That was clearly a pretext for his sudden, violent flurry of activity, but it wasn’t bad logic, so Alexia let it go. They didn’t exchange any further words while packing up the last few things, but as Alistair shouldered the bag, he fixed her with a piercing look so intense she almost recoiled from the anger in his face. “If Rendon Howe ever touches you, I will kill him.” 

He started walking towards the road before she could even think about responding, and she followed, chalking up a partial victory. She’d managed to convince him about their destination, even if he clearly hadn’t accepted that she could protect herself. 

 

As it turned out, they didn’t go to Redcliffe. Everyone they met on the West Road had advised against it, telling bizarre stories about the arl having fallen under a curse and the town being overrun by monsters. It all sounded utterly implausible, but the accounts had gotten stranger as they got closer, until Alexia was forced to accept that, whatever the truth was, Eamon wouldn’t be in a position to help her. Rather than retracing their steps into another arling, she had decided to press on to Rainesfere, the bannorn held by Eamon’s brother. Teagan would be nearly as strong an ally as his elder brother, and at the very least, they could get supplies and reliable news about the state of the kingdom. 

When they arrived at the bann’s manor, Alexia did her best to appear presentable, but so many days on the road had left her with few options. She settled for scraping the worst of the dirt from her leathers, rebraiding her hair more tightly, and hoping that her bearing and knowledge would be enough to convince the seneschal of her identity if the bann wasn’t in residence. 

Surprisingly, her name alone got them in the front door, a serving woman ushering her and Alistair politely in to a sitting room to wait. She noted with amusement that the woman had selected a room with furniture covered in leather rather than fabric, much less likely to be stained by road-worn guests. Rainesfere was remote enough that it might not be that uncommon for travelers to show up in a similar scruffy state. Maybe her appearance wasn’t as problematic as she’d feared. 

When the door opened, she stood to greet Teagan, pleased to see the bann had come in person. She smiled and prepared to offer a polite greeting, courteous noblewoman’s mask firmly in place. 

Teagan stopped in the doorway staring at her in disbelief, like he’d seen a ghost. “Little pup?” 

Alexia froze. That was her father’s name for her, and it hurt to hear it from someone else, knowing she would never again listen to her father’s familiar, teasing voice. She held herself perfectly still, breathing evenly as she clung to her mask and tried to maintain control in the face of the unexpected reminder of her loss. 

The menacing hiss of Alistair’s sword sliding from its scabbard brought her back to herself with a start. She should have realized he would react badly to her distress. She turned quickly, grabbing his arm before he could pull the blade all the way free. “Ali, no. I’m fine.” She forced him to look her in the eyes and stared him down until he came back out of threat response mode and the taut muscles in his arm relaxed. Once he let go of the hilt entirely, she released his arm and turned back to Teagan with an apologetic smile. 

“I’m sorry, your lordship. I’m only used to that nickname coming from family, and… it surprised me.” 

It felt like a terribly poor explanation, but Teagan’s look of shock was instantly replaced by one of contrition. “Lady Cousland, I’m the one who should apologize. The familiarity was presumptuous of me, as well as unkind given your recent losses, for which you have my deepest sympathy. I’m used to hearing that nickname from your brother, and I wasn’t thinking about how it might affect you. I can only attribute my lapse to the shock of seeing you so unexpectedly.” He appeared to be regaining his composure after nearly being attacked by a guest in his own home. “Let me start over by welcoming you to my home. To what do I owe this visit?” 

“I’m afraid we came to impose on your hospitality.” It was awkward asking for favors from someone your friend had just drawn on. “We had hoped to speak with your brother at Redcliffe, but if the stories we heard on the road are true, he has problems of his own.” 

Teagan’s face darkened, and he sighed wearily. “Unfortunately, Eamon would be able to offer little help to you at the moment. I’m not certain how much more I can provide, to be frank. You are, of course, welcome to stay here as long as you wish, but I’ll need to return to Redcliffe in the very near future to continue managing my brother’s affairs until he can resume full control of the arling.” 

It sounded like things were at least as bad as they’d heard on the road. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything we can do to help?” 

That startled him, and the small smile that curled his lips seemed both genuine and weary. “No. It’s very kind of you to offer, but no. Things are on the path to improvement, I think, which is why I was able to steal a couple of days to come home and make sure nothing here had fallen apart in my absence.” He chuckled wryly. “Not that I expected it to; I have a very competent household staff who are used to keeping the place functioning without me.” 

Alexia smiled, suspecting false modesty. Mother had always told her that the efficiency of a household was a direct reflection of the skill of the lord or lady running it, even if that skill was simply a talent for inspiring loyalty. “It sounds like we were fortunate to find you in residence.” 

“If that was your goal, yes, you have remarkably good timing, although perhaps it could have been better. You just missed Fergus.” 

For the second time since the bann had come into the room, Alexia felt like she had been struck in the chest. Fergus was alive. To have it confirmed so casually and unexpectedly, the sudden wave of relief was almost overwhelming. She still had a brother, some remnant of family. They could be orphans together. She didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or weep. 

Ali’s hand on the small of her back, warm and grounding, pulled her back from the edge of hysteria and reminded her she needed to breathe, just as the corners of her vision had started to dim. “Fergus was here? He’s all right? How long ago? Where did he go? I have to find him.” She’d found her voice, but it was possible her mind was lagging behind. 

Teagan was gaping at her again, looking moderately distressed. “Yes, your brother’s well. He was here just yesterday. Maker’s breath, I’m didn’t intend to spring that on you. I thought you knew, that perhaps he’d sent you.” He gestured towards a chair. “Do you need to sit for a moment?” 

“No, thank you. I’m fine.” Alexia straightened her shoulders, deliberately pulling away from Alistair’s hand to stand unsupported. It embarrassed her to have let that moment of weakness show, and she was determined to move past it. “But I’m afraid we’ll have to decline your kind offer of hospitality. I really must find Fergus.” 

 

After that, things dissolved into a blur of servants gathering provisions while the bann himself took them to the stables to borrow mounts. Alexia tried to protest. “This is incredibly generous, but we can’t possibly take your horses.” 

“Of course you can. Fergus did.” Teagan looked amused for a moment, but it quickly faded. “They get little enough use that I won’t miss them. In truth, I only keep them for when my brother and the arlessa visit. She’s Orlesian, you know. Given recent events at Redcliffe, I don’t think my horses are likely to be required for a long while.” 

His face grew dark and shuttered, and Alexia chose not to pry into precisely what had taken place at Eamon’s estate. 

Teagan cleared his throat and continued in a brighter, if somewhat forced, tone. “I said as much to your brother, and he agreed to take a mount. You can’t possibly hope to catch him on foot.” 

“Then I accept as well, since you’ve left me little choice.” Alexia smiled and chose to acquiesce gracefully, admitting she had been outmaneuvered. “What can you tell me of Fergus’s plans after he left Rainesfere?” 

“Your brother came here asking for Guerrin support to call a Landsmeet, which I gladly pledged. His ultimate destination is Denerim, but I don’t know which other nobles he intends to meet with along the way.” 

“A Landsmeet to bring Howe to justice?” That had been her hope when she set out for Redcliffe initially. 

Teagan nodded. “And to depose Loghain, who holds his leash and orchestrated my brother’s illness. The teyrn – I won’t dignify him with the foolish title of Regent – will be a formidable opponent, but we have little choice. With him in place I can’t see a path to justice for the massacre at Highever.” He frowned darkly. “Or the one at Ostagar.” 

When they reached the stables, Teagan indicated the horses he had in mind: a graceful roan and a large, dark-eyed grey. “Eamon obtained Duchess for Connor to learn on, so she should be biddable for a lady. Archdemon is sturdy and reliable enough to handle long days carrying a man in armor without complaint.” He chuckled at Alexia’s widened eyes. “Archdemon is much less fearsome than he sounds. He was intended as a warhorse, and by the time his trainer realized he wasn’t the least bit vicious, the name had already stuck. I got him for an excellent price from a frustrated and highly embarrassed bann who shall remain nameless.” His smile faded after a moment. “Take them. They’ll serve you well.”

“Thank you, Teagan. This is far too generous.” Alexia felt tears of gratitude prickle at her eyes, and she blinked them away furiously. After everything she had been through, she refused to break down over a little kindness, even unexpected as it was. 

“If you point me towards their tack, I’ll get them ready. I spent enough time with cavalry horses at Ostagar to manage that.” 

“It’s in their stalls.” Teagan seemed startled, having twitched at Alistair’s offer. Alexia concealed a tiny smile, suspecting the bann had nearly forgotten he was there. Ali had always been good at blending into the background when he was on guard duty for formal events or noble guests. 

Alistair began saddling the horses just as a pair of servants arrived with the provisions Teagan had requested. He and Alexia arranged the extra blankets, dried meats and fruit, hard cheese, and travel biscuits into packs that would strap on behind the saddles. 

They chatted meaninglessly about the task for a few moments until Teagan broached a subject he was clearly curious about. “Your… bodyguard, is he?” 

“Not specifically.” She shrugged, amused by the idea. “Alistair is – was one of father’s guards at Highever. He was with Fergus at Ostagar.” 

Teagan seemed unsatisfied with her answer. “Guard and soldier. Is that all he is?” 

Alexia felt a surge of fury. She had been defending her friendship with Ali for years, and she was utterly tired of dealing with accusations of impropriety, however veiled and polite they might be. There was nothing between them, and there never would be. She wished people would quit bringing it up. Alexia bit the inside of her lip and tried to moderate her response. If Fergus was planning a Landsmeet to recover their home, she couldn’t afford to alienate his allies, no matter how incensed she was. 

“I don’t like what you’re implying, ser.” That still came out sharper than she had hoped. 

Teagan’s brow furrowed for a split second before he blanched and began stammering. “Lady Cousland, I assure you that’s not what I meant at all. I had no intention of slighting your honor. It was merely curiosity about something Fergus mentioned…” 

Fergus was bringing this up? To near strangers? Alexia gritted her teeth, suddenly furious. 

Her reaction must have shown past the hasty soldier’s mask she’d tried to slip into. Teagan raised his hands in a calming, defensive gesture and dropped the subject. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. It’s not important.” 

They packed the remainder of the bags in icy silence. Alexia was glad when Alistair interrupted, leading the pair of saddled horses and ready to go. 

Teagan had been more than kind, and Alexia, embarrassed by her outburst, offered him final thanks and a polite parting. The bann promised to see them in Denerim for the Landsmeet, and they left, joined by Kazaril who had been lounging on the front steps. The mabari greeted them with an excited bark, prancing a circle around the horses like they were the best joke he’d ever seen before loping down the driveway, stubby tail wagging.


	9. Scandiaglio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scandiaglio – probing actions (e.g. feints) to test and discover the opponent’s nature

After leaving Rainesfere, they continued north on the road that skirted Lake Calenhad, following Fergus’s last known whereabouts. He couldn’t have more than a day’s lead on them, and Alexia hoped that if they pushed hard they would catch up to him before he left the main road and they lost his trail. The idea of pushing the horses made her apprehensive; she had never been a terribly accomplished rider. But Duchess was everything Teagan had promised, and within a few hours Alexia was nearly as confident covering the ground on horseback as she would have on foot. She would feel even better about it if Kaz would stop dropping his jaw in a tongue-lolling grin every time he looked at her. 

At least Ali hadn’t said anything about her lack of riding skills. He’d barely said anything at all since they set out again. Alexia was just as glad, since she’d be hard pressed to manage much conversation; keeping track of her reins and stirrups took most of her focus for the first several hours. She assumed Alistair was similarly preoccupied. 

As evening approached, Alexia started evaluating the clearings they passed alongside the road, considering potential campsites. She didn’t relish the idea of dragging the horses over rough ground, so staying near the highway seemed like a wiser choice. Preferably somewhere with good access to water that the animals would be able to reach. She suspected the filled water skins hanging with the saddlebags wouldn’t be sufficient for the mounts, even if they had something convenient for the horses to drink from. 

Alexia was startled from her thoughts by the noise of barking, loud enough to be heard over pounding hoofbeats. She peered down the road to see Kazaril charging full speed towards them. She hadn’t seen him much for hours; he’d been keeping his distance since getting clipped by a hoof early on. Alarmed by his frantic reaction to whatever lay ahead, she drew her sword, preparing for danger and wondering if she should dismount or try fighting from horseback. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alistair responding similarly. 

When Kaz got closer, she relaxed, returning her blade to its sheath. His hackles were down, the fur lying smooth along his back, and his stubby tail was wagging frantically. Whatever had roused him to this state wasn’t a threat. Seeing he had her attention, the mabari let out another loud bark, wheeled sharply, and dashed down the road, turning back to see if she was following. He must have found something he wanted her to see. Curious, Alexia kicked Duchess back into a canter and plunged after the hound, hearing Archdemon’s cadence change a second later. 

She caught up to Kaz just around a bend in the road, drawing Duchess up short at the sight of the warhound running circles in a small clearing just off the road, looking somewhat like an overgrown pup chasing his tail. “This better not be your way of suggesting we stop for the night.” She frowned sternly at Kaz, who barked a greeting and began sniffing around the ground, tail stub wagging furiously. He lingered over a large patch of flattened grass whuffling happily, and Alexia finally realized what she was seeing. 

Alistair reined in Archdemon at her side, and she turned to share her conclusion, a broad smile spreading across her face. “Fergus was here. This must be where he stayed last night. Kaz is tracking him. Right, boy?” 

The mabari gave a happy bark, leaping towards her and causing Duchess to shy away. 

As she was getting her mount back under control, another thought occurred to her. “Kaz, can you pick up the scent of his horse? That way we’ll be able to track him and follow if he leaves the main road.” She felt giddy and impatient, wanting to bounce in her saddle. Her brother had been in this very spot, just this morning. After thinking for so long that she might never see him again, it was surreal to be so close. 

Alistair seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “We’ve got at least another hour or daylight, and the horses don’t seem tired. There won’t be time to make a proper camp, but if you don’t mind sleeping under the stars, we can cover some more ground tonight.” 

Alexia’s beaming smile must have been answer enough because he was whistling for Kazaril and nudging Archdemon back into motion before she had a chance to say anything. She cast a final look around the nondescript remains of her brother’s camp, then followed suit. 

Ali grinned at her as Duchess matched stride, bringing her alongside him. “Just remember you agreed to this, so you can’t blame me if it rains and you get all rusty.” 

Alexia smirked back. “I’m wearing oiled leather. You’re the one who’s going to rust and get soggy.” She gestured at Kaz, who had returned to scouting the road ahead of him. “But the real burden will be sleeping with the smell of wet dog.” 

 

Fortunately, Alistair’s hypothetical rainstorm failed to materialize, and they spent a moderately comfortable night wrapped in blankets on the bare ground. As she was trying to fall asleep, Alexia realized she missed the enforced proximity of the tent. It was hard to relax without listening to Ali’s breathing, knowing he was close enough to touch. She briefly considered moving her bedroll nearer to his, but she wasn’t sure how he would take that. His sword had remained firmly between them every night on the road, so he was probably grateful to finally have some space. 

Besides, she would have to get used to sleeping without him eventually. It wasn’t like she could share a bed with Ali every night for the rest of her life, no matter how much she might want to. Somehow over the past few weeks on the road she’d let herself lose sight of that reality, and it was strangely painful to be reminded of it now. She finally fell asleep wondering if whoever she eventually ended up marrying could ever make her feel as safe and cherished as Ali always had. 

At least spending an uncomfortable night provided an advantage in the morning since they were able to get back onto the road more quickly. Eager to cover the ground that separated her from her brother, Alexia held Duchess to the fastest pace she thought they could both maintain, trusting that Archdemon would keep up. Alistair had seemed like a more confident rider than her yesterday, so he ought to be able to handle whatever she dared to risk. 

Kazaril continued to keep his distance from the horses, but he stayed closer in sight than the previous day, stopping periodically to sniff the ground for Fergus’s scent. Alexia held her breath each time the mabari paused, afraid that they might have lost the trail, but so far he had bounded away from each spot looking satisfied and continued loping along the road with his head held high. 

By midafternoon, Alexia’s enthusiasm had dampened, worn down by the tedium of the road and the unfamiliar discomforts of riding. Her leg muscles were so sore that she was dreading the next time she’d have to dismount, not convinced she’d be able to bend her legs enough to get back onto the horse again. Ali would probably help if she needed it, but Maker, it would be embarrassing to have to ask him to. 

Kazaril’s exultant yelp startled her, and she looked up to see the mabari’s hindquarters disappearing over a small hill in the road. A moment later, her brain caught up and she put her heels to Duchess, sending the horse lunging after him. 

She crested the rise to see the hound bounding enthusiastically after a mounted figure. She couldn’t make out details, but it had to be Fergus; why else would Kaz react this way? As she watched, the rider pulled up short in response enthusiastic barking Alexia couldn’t hear over the pounding of Duchess’s hooves and the blood rushing in her ears. The man – Fergus, it had to be Fergus – dismounted, kneeling down in front of Kaz and examining the mabari, apparently trying to hold the hound at a distance to avoid a very slobbery greeting. 

Duchess thundered down the road towards them, bringing Alexia close enough to confirm that it was truly her brother crouched there by Kazaril. She reined in her mount with a sob of relief, exhaling a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. Tumbling gracelessly from the saddle, she ran the remaining yards towards Fergus, who barely managed to stand and extend his arms before she crashed into him. 

His arms wrapped around her, and she clung to him, enveloped in the smell of horse and dirt and home. 

“Alexia?” After a long minute, Fergus pushed her out to arms’ length and studied her face nearly as intently as he had her mabari. “I thought that was Kaz, but I couldn’t believe it. How did you escape? Did anyone else…” 

Instantly, her joy at the reunion collapsed as she shook her head and watched his hopes crumble. “Only me. Mother sent me away to find you, to warn you. You’re teyrn now, Fergus, so you needed to know about the treachery, how easily Father’s trust was betrayed.” 

Any response he might have made was preempted by the clop of hooves and jingle of tack. Alexia looked over her shoulder to see Alistair riding Archdemon and leading Duchess. He held the spare set of reins towards her. “I caught your horse.” 

She moved to take them from him, embarrassed by having forgotten about her mount entirely in the excitement of finding her brother. “Thanks.” 

“It wasn’t much trouble.” He shrugged. “I think she might like Archdemon. She seemed happier to see him than me, at least.” 

Fergus looked up, startled, shading his eyes against the glare of sun filtering through the trees. “Alistair?” The disbelief in his voice was evident. 

Alistair saluted. “Yes, commander. Or ‘your grace’ now, I suppose.” 

Fergus shook his head slowly with a small, incredulous smile. “You can call me whatever you like if you’re the reason my sister’s standing here safe and sound.” 

Alistair glanced quickly at Alexia before answering. “I don’t think I can take that much credit, your grace.” 

Frowning at the vague – and strangely formal – answer, Fergus turned to his sister with an eyebrow quirked expectantly. 

She gave as quick an explanation as possible, wondering why Ali had suddenly quit talking when it was usually impossible to shut him up. “He found me at Lothering, where we were both looking for you. We escaped together when the darkspawn overran the town.” Alexia grinned at the small woof accompanied by a nudge at her knees. “Kaz helped.” 

Fergus shook his head, looking between the three of them. “I suppose a full explanation can wait until we’ve made camp for the night. But don’t think you’re going to get out of giving me one.” He pointed a finger at her with a stern older-brother look that was so familiar Alexia couldn’t help grinning. 

“I’ll keep an eye out for a campsite with space for a good story circle.” Alexia’s levity turned into alarm as she tried to remount Duchess, forgetting entirely about her sore muscles. Her leg cramped and gave out on her, but Fergus caught her before she could hit the ground. 

Flushing with embarrassment, Alexia waved away protests from both Alistair and Fergus as she worked out the cramp and got back onto her horse on a second try. “I’m fine. Just not used to riding this hard.” She grimaced as she settled into the saddle and found new places to hurt. “Or at all, actually.” 

Fergus looked slightly amused at her expense, although Alexia thought she saw him concealing a wince or two as he remounted. “How did you end up with the horses?” 

“Teagan insisted on loaning them to us so we could catch up with you.” She converted a groan of pain into a quiet squeak as Archdemon pulled into a trot and Duchess followed. “I’m starting to think he’s the most generous sadist I’ve ever met.” 

 

They opted to make an early camp that night, for which Alexia was extremely grateful as she slid down from Duchess’s back with a wince. As soon as the tents were set up, Alistair offered to tend to the horses, getting them unsaddled and set to forage. Alexia tried to talk to him about dinner, but he waved her off, mumbling something about planning to rummage through the saddlebags. 

Alexia shook her head and called after him. “You’re not going to find much. I already took the packs with most of the food off the horses.” 

He turned back, running a hand through his hair and giving her a half smile. “Lexia, you should have time to catch up with your brother. I’m getting out of your way.” He grinned conspiratorially. “Besides, someone should make sure Duchess isn’t getting jealous of the new arrival. She’s very touchy, you know.” 

Alexia watched him go with a rueful smirk. If Ali wanted to be alone, she could let him. For now. And it would be nice to spend some time with Fergus, now that she’d finally found him. Even if what they had to catch up about wasn’t exactly pleasant. 

Shying away from the painful memories, she busied herself with pulling foodstuffs out of the packs, selecting the things least likely to keep. She offered half to Fergus, and then sat down – with another wince of sore muscles – to give him the promised explanation for how she’d gotten here. In between bites, she described a condensed version of her travels over the past weeks. Fergus listened thoughtfully, frowning at her narrow escape from Lothering and filling in the details of his own brief visit to Rainesfere. 

During a lull in the conversation, Fergus scanned his gaze around the campsite before changing subjects with what Alexia considered painfully forced casualness. “I can’t help noticing your tent.” 

Confused, she joined him in staring at the worn canvas. She had to admit it looked small and shabby next to the one Fergus had presumably acquired from one of the nobles he had visited on his trek from the Korcari Wilds. But Alexia was proud of it as proof of her resourcefulness. “I bought it from a dwarven merchant on the way to Lothering. It’s not much, but I was bartering with what little Kaz and I could come up with.” She shrugged, trying not to sound defensive over something as silly as a second-hand tent. Maker, why did being around her brother suddenly make her feel like a little girl who needed to prove herself? “It’s a little cramped with two people, but it keeps the rain off.” 

“Two people.” Fergus’s lips thinned as he nodded to himself, a small, tight gesture. “So he’s sharing your tent.” 

Alexia could only stare at her brother, completely blindsided. _That’s_ why he cared about her tent? Because Ali had been in it? The shock crystalized into anger. She was so tired of the accusations, the assumptions, the insinuation, the lack of trust. It was bad enough from relative strangers or gossipy nobles, people who didn’t really know either of them, but she couldn’t believe she was hearing this from her own brother. 

“Yes. Ali’s _sleeping_ in my tent. And that’s all that he’s done.” She glared at Fergus, daring him to doubt her. “I kissed him once, back in Lothering. _I_ kissed _him_.” She felt her cheeks flushing at the memory, a reaction that might not be entirely due to embarrassment, but she ignored it and fiercely continued. “He stopped me because it wasn’t appropriate. Ali would never do anything to hurt me.” 

She stopped, biting the inside of her lip against all of the angry words that wanted to spill out. Her hands clenched into fists as she struggled for control, and she blinked back the tears threatening to overflow her eyes. She’d finally found her brother, the only family she had left, and by nightfall she was yelling at him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

Fergus placed a comforting hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Alexia. That wasn’t meant to upset you so much. I just wanted to get his measure before…” He stopped with an apologetic shrug. “I should have thought more about how to approach the subject.” 

She glared at him, refusing to be placated. “You shouldn’t have needed to ask at all. He’s a good person, Fergus, and I trust him completely. You should, too.” 

“I suppose that’s answer enough as to what kind of man he is.” He shook his head slowly with a hint of a smile, and his huffed breath, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, made her feel like a willful, impatient child. She’d seen him use the same expression after dealing with Oren’s more irrational outbursts, and it stung to realize that no matter what she did, he would always see her as his little sister. But at the same time, she wanted to hug him because – misguided as it was – he was trying to take care of her. It was proof that she still had a remnant of family to love her. 

Maybe his thoughts had been flowing along similar lines. “Don’t be so angry at me for worrying about you, pup.” He tugged playfully on the end of her braid, like when they were children. “Who else do I have to take care of now?” 

He tried to smile as he teased her, but his eyes were sad, and Alexia was suddenly reminded how much greater his loss had been. Fergus had lost his wife and child; at least she still had Ali. All her brother had left was her. 

Thinking about Oren and Oriana brought the memory of finding their bodies to the front of her mind in sharp relief, and with Fergus here it was just too much. Suddenly overwhelmed with a mix of grief and guilt, she burst into unexpected tears. “Fergus, I’m sorry. They were so helpless. I should have saved them. I was so close, but I couldn’t get to them in time. I should have been faster. I should have done _something_.” 

“No.” Fergus gripped her arms, hard, forcing her to look up and meet his eyes, wet with tears he didn’t think a teyrn should shed, his gaze fiercely intense all the same. “Alexia, it isn’t your fault. You did everything you could.” 

“How do you know?” She sniffled, wiping at her eyes and nose uselessly with her hand. “You weren’t there.” 

“Because I know you, little sister. If you could have done anything to save any of them, they would be sitting here with us.” 

Startled by his simple faith, she burst into tears again. “I miss them so much.” 

Fergus gently gathered her against his chest, wrapping strong arms around her and resting his cheek on her hair. “So do I.” 

They sat there for several long minutes, mourning their losses, and if Alexia’s hair was wet when she finally pulled away, she didn’t see any purpose to mentioning it. She felt like all of her energy and emotion had drained away with the tears, leaving her weary and empty. An incautious move drew a wince, and she added sore to that list. It had been an amazing, unbelievable day full of wild emotional swings, and she was ready for it to be over. 

“I’m going to turn in.” Alexia smothered a yawn as she levered herself to her feet. 

Fergus chuckled at her sudden display of exhaustion. “That’s probably best. I’ll sit up for a bit. And make sure Alistair’s eaten something so you don’t have to worry about him.” 

His unexpected concern was almost enough to quell her renewed sense of irritation when she got to the tent and saw the second set of blankets she had arranged out of habit when setting up the tent. She was tired enough to be tempted to leave them, but that would probably start a second round of the argument, likely in front of Ali. The thought of him hearing – or worse, participating in – that conversation was enough to make her blush; she definitely had no interest in dealing with the reality. 

Embarrassed and annoyed all over again, she started bundling up Ali’s blankets. She was incredibly tempted to keep one, to at least have something that smelled like him if she had to sleep alone. But he would notice, and then she’d have to explain about using him to ward off her nightmares and not ever wanting to sleep without him. Which was stupidly unrealistic and would lead to yet more awkward conversations, probably involving Fergus, given her luck. It was easier to just risk it and hope that having found her brother and gotten his absolution would lessen the pain and guilt enough for her to sleep. 

Firmly tying off the bedroll, she set the bundle outside the tent opening with a glare at Fergus. “If you want Ali to sleep somewhere different tonight, you can tell him why.” 

He didn’t seem at all affected by her anger, giving her a small half smile. “He’s smart, pup. I won’t need to.” 

With a huff, Alexia retreated behind the canvas flap, lying down to stretch out her sore muscles and try to sleep in the suddenly too large tent.


	10. Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> invitation – positioning that intentionally exposes openings

The following day on the road was both quieter and slower paced. Alexia’s sore legs were grateful for the easier ride, even if the awkward silences were less comfortable. Fergus spent most of the day absorbed in thought, offering vague, distracted responses to all attempts at conversation, and Alistair seemed uncomfortable now that Fergus had joined them, like he thought he was supposed to fall back into his role as a guard rather than being her friend. Alexia found it disconcerting that adding another person to the group had made her suddenly feel lonely. 

Camp that evening wasn’t much better. Alistair and Fergus saw to the horses while Alexia set up the tents. Then the three of them ate in uncomfortable silence punctuated by stilted attempts at conversation that died out quickly. Kazaril was the only one who seemed unaffected, gulping down his dinner, worrying briefly at a bone, and then curling up at Alexia’s feet to sleep. Before long, Alexia was considering following his lead and turning in early, weighing escaping the awkwardness against a possible early start to the nightmares. 

Fergus seemed to finally reach the conclusion he’d been searching for all day. He sighed and then looked up, fixing his gaze on Alistair. “I need to talk to you about something.” 

Alexia glared at her brother. “No, you don’t.” 

She couldn’t believe he was bringing this back up. Hadn’t they covered everything last night? Ali had slept somewhere else, presumably in Fergus’s tent. All Alexia knew was that she’d woken up in the middle of the night shaking and alone, muffling her terrified sobs in her blankets and desperately missing Ali’s comforting touch. Kaz had heard, coming in to curl up with her and try to lick away her tears, but she didn’t think anyone else had. But she had done what Fergus asked to prove there wasn’t anything improper happening. What more did he want?

Fergus seemed startled by her interjection, turning to look at her in confusion. After a moment, he laughed softly, shaking his head in amusement. “I promise you, Alexia, that whatever you think this is about, you’re wrong. And I assure you this conversation really does need to happen, preferably before any further planning for the Landsmeet occurs.” 

It was Alexia’s turn to stare in bewilderment. The Landsmeet? What could Fergus need to talk to Ali about that involved the Landsmeet? 

“Not to be rude, but do I get a say in any of this?” 

Alexia flushed at Alistair’s interjection, looking away. Maybe the reason he’d been so quiet since Fergus showed up was that she’d started speaking for him. 

“Of course you do.” Fergus seemed far less perturbed by the sarcasm. “I simply hope you’ll hear me out first.” 

“I’m listening.” He sounded wary, and Alexia didn’t blame him. 

Alexia stood up, ignoring the protests from her sore legs. “I’ll go check in on the horses, then.” The excuse sounded every bit as flimsy as it had coming from Alistair the previous evening. 

“After we just got them all bedded down? I think I’m hurt you need to double-check my work.” Ali’s look of wounded innocence melted under her exasperated glare, turning into a fond smile. “You might as well stay, Lexia. It’ll save me the trouble of repeating whatever it is to you later.” 

She glanced at Fergus for confirmation and he shrugged with a thoughtful expression she didn’t quite understand. “It’s fine with me, if Alistair doesn’t mind. And I’m starting to wonder if this may involve you, as well.” 

Wary but curious, Alexia returned to her seat by Kaz, stroking the mabari as he stirred in his sleep. 

“This may take some explaining.” Fergus was silent for a moment, remarshaling his thoughts. “Over the past few years, Father set aside a portion of his time to talk with me about the things I would need to know once I became teyrn, although neither of us ever thought that day would come so soon.” He cleared his throat before continuing, and Alexia suspected he might be blinking back tears. She certainly was. 

“One of the things we discussed was the keeping of secrets. And the revealing of secrets. There’s one in particular whose time has come, and there’s no easy way to say this.” He fixed Alistair with a serious look. “You have been lied to your entire life, about the circumstances of your birth.” 

Ali went pale, then flushed red with anger. “Someone knew? And you kept it from me?” 

Alexia’s chest clenched at the pain on his face, and she resisted the urge to go to him. Ali’s lack of family had always been a sore point for him, and she couldn’t believe the father she’d loved and respected would have deliberately inflicted that hurt on him. There had to be an explanation. 

Fergus nodded grimly. “I’m sorry, yes. Father knew, and he told me as his heir.” 

“Why? How could he lie to me for so long?” Ali swallowed, and Alexia thought he was fighting tears. She felt her own eyes prickle in sympathy. “Do I have a family?” 

“Not any more.” Fergus looked like the admission pained him. “As to why, I swear to you that Father hated having to keep the truth from you, but he was bound by an oath to his monarch.” 

Alistair laughed, sounding incredulous. “Try a better story than that. Why would the king care about an orphaned bastard?” 

Alexia’s breath caught, and she stared at him in shock, feeling her world spin around and settle into a new position. She had rarely met Cailan, but she knew every line of Ali’s face. How had she never seen the resemblance until now? She licked her lips and swallowed through a throat suddenly gone dry before softly answering his rhetorical question. “Because he was your father.” 

“You knew?” Ali’s voice sounded hoarse, almost ragged. “Is that why you… why we…” 

Alexia recoiled from the accusation and his look of betrayal as if he’d struck her, shaking her head and raising her hands defensively. How could he think she would have kept something so important from him? “No, Ali. No, never. I swear I would have told you. I put it together just now.” 

“She wasn’t told,” Fergus confirmed. “Only Father, then me. Supposedly even Mother never knew, although I find it hard to believe that Father ever managed to keep a secret from her.” He smiled sadly before continuing in a firmer tone. “Alexia didn’t know, but she’s guessed correctly.” 

As Alistair tried to process that revelation, Alexia’s mind jumped to the next connection and the shock only deepened. She fixed her brother with an intent, suspicious stare. “Fergus, please tell me you’re not intending to put him up for the Landsmeet.” 

Her brother wouldn’t meet her eyes, and she felt the bile rise in her throat as her brother tacitly confirmed that he planned to turn her best friend into a political pawn. Fergus sighed. “After Ostagar, what choice do we have?” 

Ali’s eyes narrowed as he looked back and forth between them. “Would one of the nobles care to fill in the blanks for the commoner?” 

Alexia barely managed to suppress a sudden burst of hysterical laughter. “Hardly a commoner, Ali. Not if Fergus gets his way. He plans to make you king.” 

 

After that the conversation devolved fairly quickly as Fergus tried to explain his reasoning, while Alistair worked his way through shock and disbelief before reaching outrage and storming away from the campsite. Fergus lowered his head into his hands with a sigh. 

Alexia watched him for a moment before remarking, with forced brightness, “Well, that could have gone better.” She was still angry with her brother for keeping such a dangerous, painful secret, but she understood he had his reasons. 

Fergus laughed mirthlessly, raising his head to look at her. “I imagine Father would have handled it more gracefully. But all we have is me, stumbling along trying to fill his shoes.” 

Frowning, Alexia moved to give her brother a hug, resting her head on his shoulder. “I miss them, too.” Somehow, it was easier to talk about it when he couldn’t see her face. “But you can’t hold yourself to impossible standards. As wonderful as Father was, I think even he would have found it difficult to tell Ali that the whole family’s been lying to him since we took him in as an infant.” 

Fergus ruffled her hair, chuckling, as she pulled back and settled in to sit next to him. “What’s this ‘we’, pup? You weren’t even born yet.” 

Giving in to a childish impulse, she stuck out her tongue at him for that, earning a warm and familiar laugh that sounded like the brother she remembered instead of a stern nobleman bowed down by obligation. 

They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, Alexia leaning her head on his shoulder like she’d done sometimes as a girl, sleepy but refusing to go to bed because someone – usually Nan but, on rare occasions, Father – was telling stories, and she wanted to stay up to listen. Fergus had always made a fuss about being used as a substitute for a pillow, but he’d usually let her stay. 

She was grateful for his presence now as she tried to absorb this new information. Ali as king could change a lot of things, more than she ever would have considered, and she had to decide what she wanted and how brave she could be. Of course, none of it would matter if Ali didn’t want the throne, and she could certainly understand if he didn’t. It was too much to process, too sudden and unexpected, and she wasn’t ready to deal with it. 

After a while, Fergus nudged her, bumping his leg against hers and breaking her out of her thoughts. “You should go after him.” 

Startled, Alexia lifted her head. “You think he’d want to see me right now?” 

“I think he could use a friend.” Fergus’s smile was slightly sad. “He’s certainly going to need one in the coming days.” 

Alexia squeezed her brother’s arm comfortingly before standing up, thinking the same could be said of him. “It’s not your fault, Fergus.” 

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Go tell him that.” 

Shaking her head, Alexia smiled down at him. “Ali already knows. You’re the one who needs to believe it.” 

 

Alexia found Ali exactly where she expected to: in the clearing where the horses were paddocked for the night. As she approached, he appeared to be deep in conversation with Archdemon. Curious, she paused at the edge of the open area to watch. 

Ali had his head bowed, speaking softly to the grey as he caressed its nose. As she watched, the horse nuzzled at his chest, and he smiled, chuckling and scratching behind its ears. She couldn’t make out any words, but the tone of his voice sounded teasing when he spoke to it next. He seemed content, like he’d found his own form of comfort. Alexia felt like she would be intruding. 

She stepped backwards, hoping to slip back to the camp unnoticed. If he didn’t need her right now, there was no reason to bother him. The conversation she had in mind could wait, maybe indefinitely. 

Something rustled under her foot, and Ali’s head came up, turning to spot her almost immediately. It looked like she would have to go through with this after all. Alexia ducked her head, embarrassed at having been caught watching him. “I guess I’m not as quiet as I thought, huh?” She offered him a tentative smile in apology. 

“You make up for it in other ways.” His answering grin was weak, but it was enough to let her hope that maybe she hadn’t made a mistake in coming to find him. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me right now.” She shrugged, offering one last way out of what she was about to do. “I’m here if you want to talk, but I don’t have to be.” 

“No, it’s fine. You don’t need to go.” Ali ran a hand through his hair, looking away like he wasn’t sure he meant it. The horse nudged at his arm, and he chuckled, patting it fondly. When he looked back at her, he sounded less forced. “It’s good you’re here. ‘Demon was just telling me I needed to stop sulking.” He scritched beneath the horse’s forelock with an easy grin. “And when even the horses think you’ve gotten maudlin, it’s definitely time for a sanity check.” 

“I’ll defer to your expertise on the wisdom of horses.” Alexia grinned back, relaxing a little. If Ali was trying to make jokes, he had to be at least somewhat okay. 

He offered her a fleeting smile, gave Archdemon a final pat on the nose, and gestured at a fallen log near the edge of the clearing. “Sit with me?” 

Alexia moved to join him, suddenly tense all over again. She tried to stay casual, joking, the things he needed and expected from her. “Are you sure your new friend won’t be jealous?” 

“’Demon?” Ali shook his head. “I’m pretty sure he’d rather spend time with Duchess. He only tolerates me because there are itches that hooves can’t reach.” He flashed a guilty grin. “And I might have snuck him a carrot or three.” 

“Carrots.” Alexia smirked. “The absolute height of horsey hedonism. I can see why he’s smitten.” She bit the inside of her lip, wondering if she was blushing. She decided to plunge ahead, broaching the subject they were dancing around. “And I don’t think you’re sulking, Ali. You’ve got a lot to think about right now. Flames, I’ve had a lot to think about with this, and I’m not even you.” Alexia grimaced. That could have been more eloquent, and it didn’t bode well for the rest of what she had to say. 

“Not being me is a good thing.” Ali’s chuckle made up for any stupidity she felt over her faltering words. “I’m pretty sure I like you a lot better as you.” He sighed, sounding suddenly serious and dejected, hanging his head and staring blankly at the ground. “But I’m not sure there really is that much to think about. Fergus said it; there isn’t any choice.” 

“You mean you’re going to do it?” Alexia was surprised he’d come to a conclusion so quickly. She’d thought she might have reason to stall as he considered such a major decision. “Try to claim the throne at the Landsmeet?” 

He shrugged listlessly. “I think I have to.” He looked up at her, suddenly earnest. “You weren’t at Ostagar, but you saw the darkspawn at Lothering. Teyrn Loghain let that happen. He let those people die. Not just the soldiers and the Grey Wardens – who maybe expected it even if they didn’t deserve it – but all of the farmers and merchants. Their children.” He shook his head, swallowing hard. “Lexia, I’ve spent my whole life learning how to protect people. If this is the only way to stop Loghain before more lives are lost, how can I refuse?” 

Alexia felt her chest clench and wondered how she’d never noticed before just how amazing he was. “Oh, Ali…” She brushed a finger across his cheek, catching a tear that was about to fall. “I told Fergus you were a good man, but I’m not sure I realized what that actually meant.” 

He laughed, harsh and shaky. “Really? Because I’m sitting here trying to think of any way out of this I can get. There just…” He slumped forward, head in his hands. “If there is one, I can’t find it.” 

Alexia felt helpless, sitting at his side with no idea what he needed. She wasn’t even sure if a comforting hand on his shoulder would be intrusive, the contact for her benefit rather than his. 

Eventually, he sighed and raised his head, staring ahead into the long distance. “Maker’s breath, I can think of a hundred reasons why I _should_ do this and not a single reason I would _want_ to.” 

Well, if that wasn’t a perfect opening… It took Alexia three tries to find her voice. “I… might be able to give you one. A reason, I mean.” 

He turned to look at her, head tilted, and oh, Maker, it would have been easier to say this if he hadn’t done that. 

Unable to meet his eyes, Alexia looked away, staring off at the horses without really seeing them. Licking her lips, she forced herself to continue. “You told me once that a teyrn’s daughter couldn’t… have a future with a guardsman. And you were right. But do you know what she could do? She could be queen.” 

The resulting silence was so complete that Alexia could hear her heart beating, fast and uneven, as she waited, terrified, for Ali to say something, anything. It stretched on, and she wondered if she’d misjudged – badly. He’d told her that he loved her two years ago, and he said nothing had changed. But maybe she’d misunderstood, maybe that wasn’t what he’d meant. Maybe this wasn’t something he wanted. Not the way she’d realized she did. Maker, what if she’d been wrong about everything? 

Hands clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, Alexia began searching desperately for a way out, something she could say or do that would make this go away, turn things back to how they’d been before she’d taken a stupid risk and said something that couldn’t be unsaid. “Ali…” 

Bracing herself, she turned back towards him to try, but the look on his face froze the half-formed words in her throat. He looked stunned, completely and utterly in shock, even worse than when Fergus had explained about his father. His eyes were wide, and his mouth moved without any sound coming out. She had no idea if that was a good or bad thing. 

Eventually, he managed to form words, sounding incredulous but not unhappy. “You’re saying you would consider marrying me?” 

Apparently it had been good shock. Alexia laughed, shaky and giddy with relief. “What’s to consider?” 

Some of the light in his eyes dimmed, and he looked down for a second. “Well, obviously. You’ve been looking for a noble to marry, and it’s hard to do better than a king, right? There are bound to be lots of perks. I mean, there’s a palace, and I’m sure the food’s great. What noblewoman wouldn’t want to be a queen, after all? I can definitely see the appeal.” He continued, but Alexia quit hearing the words, everything running together into a suffocating mass of confusion and hurt. 

“Ali…” He didn’t seem to hear her, so she tried his name again. When he still didn’t respond, she grabbed one of his waving hands and brought it to her lips, pressing kisses on his knuckles to get his attention. Mercifully, he finally stopped talking, staring at her warily. 

“Ali, the appeal is _you_. This isn’t about being queen; it’s about being _your_ queen.” Tears in her eyes, she brought his hand to her cheek, leaning against his palm and drawing strength from the feel of his familiar calloused touch. “I want to marry you because I can’t fathom spending my life without you. The only reason I care about you being king is because it means I’d finally be allowed to.” 

It all came spilling out, everything she’d been denying for longer than she knew, everything she’d realized while sitting with Fergus after his revelation of Ali’s parentage. And once she’d said it, there was nothing to do but wait for Ali to react to the one thing she’d never trusted him with before: complete honesty. 

Staring into Ali’s eyes, she watched him move from hurt to confusion and disbelief, all of which were finally replaced by a fierce kind of joy. “Maker’s breath, Lexia…” 

Then his hand slipped from her cheek to the back of her neck, and he was pulling her against him, kissing her like she’d been wishing he would for weeks. Like she’d been wanting him to for the past two years. It was everything that kissing Ali had always been, passionate and tender and dizzying, but the hesitation was gone. The arm that wrapped around her waist felt like it belonged there, and his tongue slipped into her mouth without waiting for an invitation, like he was only now sure of a welcome. She whined needily until he pulled her flush against him and the sense of his presence filled up her whole world. 

When they finally, reluctantly, parted, Alexia was sitting on his lap, his arms holding her tightly against his chest. Ali leaned his forehead into hers, his breathing ragged. She trailed her fingers down the side of his neck, unable to stop touching him, needing to make up for far too much wasted time. Alexia ran a thumb along his cheekbone, feeling him turn into her touch, seeking to prolong the contact. She leaned back, just enough to see him clearly, savoring the sight of his parted lips and darkened eyes. He was perfect, beautiful, everything she wanted. 

She sighed contentedly. “I love you.” 

She said it without thinking, the most natural and obvious thing. The flash of hopeful, wary disbelief in his eyes caused her chest to clench in a way that was almost physically painful. In all this time, had he never realized? She had done such a good job of putting it all behind a mask, denying everything she felt, even to herself. She’d never told him what he meant to her, when she should have said it a hundred times over. 

“I’m sorry. I should have…” Alexia shook her head helplessly, not knowing how to explain. She wanted so badly to kiss him, to drive away the doubt in a language they were used to, but there needed to be words, no more room for ambiguity. She had to take off the soldier’s mask. “I’ve been fighting this for so long, and I… I don’t want to anymore.” Taking a quick breath, she met his gaze with a tiny, shy smile. “I yield, Ali. I’m yours.” 

He took her at her word, claiming her lips in a crushing kiss and folding her into an embrace so tight she could feel the individual plates of his armor. It should have been confining, but all she wanted was to press even more tightly against him. Gradually, the intense urgency faded, melting into something lingering and sweet as he trailed light kisses along her jaw and down her neck, his lips leaving her skin tingling. His fingers threaded gently into her hair, and his soft whisper in her ear – “Mine.” – made her shiver from the heat of his breath and the reverence in his voice. 

She had the fleeting thought that they ought to go back to camp, that Fergus might be worrying, but then Ali’s mouth found hers again, and she decided her brother could wait. A few minutes wouldn’t do him any harm; she’d been waiting for this for years.


End file.
